


You Look Stunning, Dear

by vivilove



Series: Career Day Romance [17]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Attraction, Canon Disabled Character, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Jon is a fashion photographer, Misunderstandings, Past Jon/Arianne, Sansa and Bran are the only Starklings in this story, Sansa is a model, and Ned and Cat are dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-16 19:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Jon Targaryen is a fashion photographer who has sworn off getting romantically involved with a model again...until he meets Cersei Lannister's latest rising star.New to the world's most famous runways and high-profile fashion magazines, Sansa Stark knows she should be grateful but part of her can't help wondering if she really even wants all this especially being stuck with Cersei as her less-than-kindhearted agent.  But success here will mean good things for more than just herself and she can't risk that for anyone, even a guy like Jon, can she?
Relationships: Bran Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Bran Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Myrcella Baratheon/Grenn (minor)
Series: Career Day Romance [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/696723
Comments: 455
Kudos: 537





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dena1984](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dena1984/gifts), [LadyAnastasia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAnastasia/gifts).



> Gifted to two very sweet ladies! I wanted to finish this before Christmas but time got away from me. Hoping to finish it in January :)
> 
> Title from 'Beautiful People' by Ed Sheeran/Khalid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up...I know next to nothing about how the fashion/modeling industry really works so apologies for my inaccuracies. I just want to write a story :)

“There he is at last! Did all those beautiful girls wear you out today?”

Jon removed his coat, ignoring Pyp’s teasing as he accepted the beer Sam was handing him at the high top they’d claimed by the bar before grumpily replying, “They did.” Unfortunately, he knew that would only provoke them.

“Poor guy.”

He did not imagine the sarcasm in those two words. “Yes, poor guy is right.” Sam looked sympathetic but the other three merely shook their heads in thinly veiled disgust. “Let me put it this way, you’re all glad it’s Friday, right? Happy to be here at our favorite watering hole and free to drink as much as you like before stumbling home and sleeping in tomorrow, right?” They nodded. “Of course, you are. Everybody’s working for the weekend and I’m no exception. Except I won’t be having a weekend more than likely because it’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow and Sunday.”

“And why does that matter?” Sam asked.

“Because Olenna says the rainy backdrop will be ideal for the autumn spread. Says it will add the right ambiance and make the colors pop.” His editor-in-chief was a giant in the industry and, though she was getting up in years, never let her underlings divert her from her visions for _Highgarden_ , the fashion bible she’d helped found.

“Better get your rain slicker out then.”

“Yeah but have you ever tried photographing anything in the rain that looks worth a shit? It’ll be a mess, not to mention trying to keep the models looking alluring when they’ll probably be turning blue.”

“Sorry, I’m too busy picturing you surrounded by beautiful girls in slinky wet dresses to feel very bad for you at the moment,” Pyp said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t get me started on them. They’ll be in a horrible mood all day so trying to get them to do anything I ask will be a trial.”

“Here we go again,” Edd grumbled. “Models are so horrible.”

“I didn’t say they were horrible but I’d be photographing bowls of fruit if it paid decent wages.”

A chorus of boos and laughter met his statement before Grenn lifted his bottle and tilted it his way. “Will you listen to this, guys? Poor Jon’s moaning about spending his time around models even after having the likes of Arianne Martell moaning in his bed.”

Jon grimaced. Grenn was his roommate so he could hardly deny it. “Yes, beautiful Arianne who dropped me like a used tissue as soon as better offers started coming her way.”

“And the international supermodel last year? Ala-something?”

“Alayaya and a gentleman’s not supposed to kiss and tell.”

“Were we gentleman here?” Pyp asked.

“Sam is.”

“Thank you, Jon.”

“But, what about…”

“For Christ’s sake, Grenn, are you keeping score for me or something?”

“No! But, I don’t care how much you sulk and whine. I still say you’re a lucky bastard, Targaryen.”

His friends had a point which he was forced to concede. Standing around taking pictures in the rain beat the hell out of a lot of jobs and he was paid well for his trouble. Maybe he couldn't really complain but it can be hard to resist whining to our friends sometimes. 

And yeah, he’d had some luck with the ladies if one was alright with casual. Maybe he was supposed to be content with that. He was only twenty-five and most guys his age weren’t necessarily racing to the altar. He couldn’t say he was either but he wasn’t content with casual either.

However, the models he had dated were either not looking for a relationship that went beyond some fun in the bedroom and someone who looked decent in a tux to be their escort on the red carpet _or_ didn’t see _him_ as being right for a serious relationship with them. A few short-term flings and then ‘see you around, Jon’ was what he’d come to expect.

After Arianne, he’d sworn off dating models but the one woman he’d dated since then had nursed a lot of jealousy over him photographing beautiful women for a living (completely unfounded jealousy) and it had soured things pretty quickly.

He’d not started off in photography with the goal of becoming a fashion photographer but he did have an eye for it as they said. He’d climbed his way up from catalog ads to the most exclusive runways and photo spreads in the world in a relatively short span of time. It was exciting in a way…and exhausting in others. Everybody was always out for Number 1 and the competition could be cutthroat.

Admittedly, it helped having some connections thanks to his father’s foothold in the world of publishing and his own mother’s past modeling career though he liked to think Olenna had chosen him based on his talent more than his last name. Oh, he didn't fool himself. Having any sort of an in helps just about anywhere but while he owed having the right last name a little and Olenna a lot, if he wasn't able to consistently give her 'the look' she wanted, he never would've lasted this long. 

There were some good people in the industry that he enjoyed working with and, though he’d worked with his share of prima donnas in the form of designers, agents and models, he couldn’t say he loathed his job. Still, he’d looked forward to a lazy weekend in his sweats, camped out with Ghost in front of the television and forgetting the world of the so-called Beautiful People for a couple of days.

_So much for that…_

* * *

  
The alarm clock was blaring at 7AM sharp, an unholy hour for a weekend in Jon’s opinion. He shut it off and listened to the rain pouring outside his window. Perfect sleeping weather. He groaned, contemplating whether or not he could skip his run and sleep an extra forty-five. A pair of pleading puppy dog eyes and a whimper told him the answer was no.

“Hey, Buddy. Guess you’re ready to get out, huh?”

He dressed, throwing on rainy day gear for his run and Ghost brought him his lead. They set off from the apartment he shared with Grenn, running towards the dog park where they’d have a round of toss and fetch before running back so Jon could get ready for his day.

Entering the gated space, he immediately noticed two grey huskies he’d not seen before and a man sitting by himself in a wheelchair with an umbrella. No one else was here at this hour with the rain on a Saturday.

Ghost stood perfectly still when the other two huskies stopped their frolicking to look his way. A little silent communication occurred between the three dogs and Jon supposed Ghost must’ve been judged alright for the three of them were soon racing to the far end of the run together.

Not normally all that sociable with strangers, especially this early, he decided to make an effort with the owner. “I wish I’d been able to make friends that easily at the playground as a boy.”

“Don’t we all,” the stranger said, his lips quirking into a grin.

Looking at him closer, Jon realized he was younger than he’d originally thought, maybe still a teenager. How far away did he live? Why was he here alone?

_Jesus, Jon. He’s in a wheelchair. Doesn’t mean he needs someone to bring him and his dogs to the park._

Annoyed with himself, he searched for something else to say. “They’re good looking dogs.” Was that weird to say? They were handsome dogs…or pretty. Might be females. He’d not taken note.

“Yours, too. I’ve not seen an albino husky until now. What’s his name?”

“Ghost.”

“Good name.”

“What about your two?”

“Summer and Lady. Summer’s mine and Lady’s my sister’s.”

“Ah.”

Jon shoved his hands into his jacket pocket feeling awkward again. Interactions with strangers could leave him exhausted. When he was working, he didn’t think that much about it. The camera seemed to act as a wall and an icebreaker both. He felt safe behind it, safe enough to say what he wanted or needed to say to do his job and then sometimes, safe enough to say more. When he was just in a social setting though, he tended to withdraw around people he didn’t know well.

He squeezed the rubber ball he’d brought with him, figuring it might not get used this trip if Ghost was happy playing with other dogs. He wished he wasn’t such shit at this. But what did you say to a stranger at the dog park beyond a greeting and asking their dog’s name? _Why are you here alone in the rain?_ hardly seemed appropriate though part of him was concerned. _Where’s your sister?_ also ran through his mind.

“I’m Bran.”

“Oh, I’m Jon,” he said, removing his hand from the pocket to shake the boy’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“It’s chilly out this morning with the rain.”

“It is.” Bran turned back to watch the dogs, apparently unperturbed by the weather or Jon’s feelings of awkwardness. “I don’t mind it.”

 _The weather or my awkwardness?_ Jon wondered. “Is your sister, um…nearby?”

“No, she’s working today, couldn’t join me this morning.”

“She might be glad to avoid getting wet.”

“She’ll be getting wet today, I’m afraid,” Bran chuckled.

Jon was obviously missing something. Maybe his sister had an outdoor job. He’d be getting plenty wet on the job today as well. “Yeah, I’ll be working today, too.”

“Do you want to share my umbrella? You’ll have to crouch. The bench is over in the grassy section. It’s hard to make it there with the rain.”

He’d never considered how wheelchair- _unfriendly_ this dog park was. There was only a small pad of concrete for Bran to park his chair and be out of the way of the gate. And looking at Bran's wheelchair, he couldn't help noticing it wasn't in the best of shape.

"The dog park on 11th is a lot newer. It's got a good run for the dogs but also some more sidewalk and..."

"11th's pretty far from here," Bran replied mildly. 

It was. In fair weather, he might make the run there. _It'd be seven blocks for Bran to wheel himself unless he wanted to attempt public transportation with two dogs, you idiot,_ Jon thought, cursing himself.

"It's alright, Jon. We like it here."

He nodded and crouched on the concrete next to Bran's chair. He was already soaked but even ten minutes without the rain pattering on top of his head would be welcome. The rain was splattering up, wetting his knees but that was hardly such a cross to bear.

The awkwardness he feared and disliked seemed to melt away under that umbrella. It was quiet, sort of peaceful. And Bran didn’t seem like the type to expect idle chit-chat. The two of them shared their space in companionable silence until it was time for him to go. He called to Ghost who came, though reluctantly. And yes, he could tell when his dog was feeling reluctant about something. Bran whistled and Lady and Summer came at once, all ready to go if their new friend was leaving.

“I hope to see you here again, Bran. Ghost liked having playmates, I think.”

“I’m glad to hear it. We just moved here a couple of weeks ago but I try and bring them most mornings except Wednesdays when I have early class.”

“Alright. Do you need any help getting…” Bran’s blue eyes rose to meet his, a hint of reproach in them. Jon bit his tongue too late. “Sorry.”

“No worries. I’ll see you around.”

He held the gate open for Bran and the three dogs to exit. While he was attaching Ghost’s lead again, he watched Bran wheel himself the other direction with the umbrella crooked between his neck and shoulder and the two dogs pacing sedately ahead of him.

He glanced at his watch and grumbled. He’d be late if he didn’t get moving.

* * *

  
He’d said he’d sworn off models after Arianne. He was definitely not getting involved with another woman who was only interested in him until something better came along. He might not be famous or rich even but he wanted something deeper than a good time. He was only curious about her.

He’d first spied her racing across the parking lot when he’d arrived, wearing high tops and a red rain slicker. The park where they were shooting had a few shops and restaurants nearby. He’d failed to make the connection that she might be one of the models although she was drop-dead gorgeous and tall enough. There’d just been something about the way she’d moved that had seemed more natural, less studied than the others.

But when she entered the set-up tent, wearing the tartan dress and over the knee boots Loras had chosen for her, there was no mistaking that she belonged here.

“Shae? Who is that?”

His assistant glanced over her shoulder for half a second. She was smirking when she turned back around. “That’s the new girl.”

She loved making him work for it. “Okay. Does ‘new girl’ have an actual name?”

“Sansa Stark.”

“Pretty red hair,” he murmured to himself. Fuck it, all of her was pretty…pretty stunning. Radiant even. Creamy complexion, sparkling blue eyes, fresh-faced with those waves of auburn hair to go with a tall, willowy figure and… “Long legs.” He hadn’t meant to utter that aloud.

“Don’t drool on this camera.”

“Shut up.” No, he wouldn’t drool on his camera. He was a professional. He wasn’t blind though. He could clearly picture Grenn, Edd and Pyp’s faces when he dared complain about work if they ever caught sight of Ms. Stark.

He’d sworn off models after Arianne but he might need to reevaluate that. _I mean, it’s kind of ludicrous to hold a person’s career against her when it comes to dating, right?_

_I love how you think you’d have a snowball’s shot in hell with her. That’s optimism for you._

“She’s one of Cersei’s,” Shae added a second later.

Jon rolled his eyes and returned to his equipment. Cersei Lannister ran one of the top modeling agencies in the country. She was also a total nightmare and, in Jon’s experience, many of her models took after her.

_Except Myrcella. Which is pretty odd considering she’s her daughter._

Olenna arrived under a green and gold umbrella held over her by her assistant to give her customary pep talk and make sure everyone knew each other.

“Ladies, I suppose you all know Jon.” _One of them doesn’t! Introduce us!_ “Oh, wait. Sansa? You’re new to our little magazine, aren’t you?" _Bless you, Olenna._

“Yes, Mrs. Tyrell.” He could tell by her perfectly polite but secretly amused smile that the irony of Olenna calling _Highgarden_ ‘our little magazine’ was not lost on her.

“Well, darling, this is Jon. Jon, this is Sansa. I don’t know if you’ll be able to improve on such a beauty with that camera of yours but you can try.”

“It will be my pleasure to try, Olenna. It’s lovely to meet you, Sansa,” he said, extending his hand. Hers was dainty but her handshake firm.

“You, too.”

He wasn’t sure why but the way she said it and her blue eyes brought Bran to mind. No matter though. It was time to get to work. And for the first time since he’d been told he’d be working today, Jon couldn’t say he minded one bit.

* * *

He had a longish face and didn’t smile much when shooting. She liked his curly hair and grey eyes. His seriousness bordered on intimidating when the pose or angle wasn’t right but he was unfailingly polite in his instructions.

He was handsome, far more handsome than any other photographer she’d worked with…not that it’d been so many. She’d been told that Jon Targaryen was good looking enough to be on the other side of the camera. She’d have to agree with that but it had never been something that interested him, she’d heard.

A genius behind the lens, he clearly knew what he was doing. Sansa had been told he could be sort of snappish or distant at times. He didn’t seem that way at all today. And when things were clicking and he was pleased with what he was getting, there’d be these precious glimmers of a smile that was undeniably sweet.

This shoot however was a nightmare. She sincerely hoped Olenna got what she wanted from them so she could have tomorrow off. She’d gladly soak in a hot bath all day if so in hopes of recalling what it was to be warm again…and maybe go see a movie with Bran. _But one day of work is one day of pay. Two would be better._

Today was serious business no matter how silly it might look to an outsider. She wanted to impress the editor-in-chief of _Highgarden_ with the hopes she’d use her again, maybe exclusively. Anything to loosen Cersei’s claws a little.

_Speak of the devil…_

“There you are! I’d wondered if they’d dismissed you already but I see you’re camped out by craft services as usual, aren’t you, little dove?” Sansa guilty pulled her hand back from the lemon poppyseed mini-muffin she’d contemplated when Cersei hissed in her ear, “You’re not actually going to eat during a shoot, are you?” She tutted and led her away from the food table.

“I’m hungry,” she murmured under her breath.

Cersei just gave her that look, a flash of exasperation and pity combined before returning to her resting bitch face. Sansa tried to hide her shivering as she waited for another lecture about all the ways she was doing things wrong. She’d been put in a new outfit but it didn’t change the fact her body and hair were still damp from the rain and icy cold.

“For the love of God, can’t you stop your teeth from chattering? It’s very off-putting.”

“Sorry.”

Yes, she was new to Cersei’s agency and new to this level of modeling. Print ads and a couple of smaller runway shows had managed to gain her some notoriety, enough to garner Cersei’s attention. _That and dating Joffrey...God, what a mistake that was._

At first, she’d been thrilled. Everyone said her career would take off under Cersei and she might become a household name but it was getting more difficult to remember why she’d wanted this in the first place. Back when she’d just been a college girl doing a little modeling on the side, things had been simpler.

Oh, Cersei wasn’t all bad. She could be very kind and flattering at times. Unfortunately, the kindness and flattery seemed to be drying up since Sansa had signed a contract. The flattery she could do without but the kindness was missed even if she was beginning to doubt its sincerity.

“What are you wearing next? If Olenna tries to put you in that godawful dress her granddaughter designed, we’re walking out.”

Before she could answer, someone else joined them.

“Hey, Sansa. Thought you could use this.” It was Jon, handing her a blanket. “It’s good to try and keep warm between setups in these conditions. Don’t want you sneezing your head off.”

“That wouldn’t look so good tomorrow if we’ve got to shoot again, huh?”

He shook his head. “No, but mostly I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

She pulled the dark grey blanket around her shoulders, grateful for its soft warmth that seemed to match his eyes. His smile was tentative but kind. She liked Jon Targaryen’s smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. We’ll be ready to go in about ten minutes.”

Cersei slung her arm around Sansa’s shoulders, a sudden show of camaraderie that was as fake as press-on nails. “How is she doing, Jon? I hope you’re making my girl look her best.”

“She’s a natural, Cersei. It’d be hard to take an unflattering picture of her.” Turning away from Cersei, he handed her two of the lemon poppyseed mini-muffins. “I know it sounds stupid considering the rain but be sure and stay hydrated.”

“I will,” she said, taking the muffins and popping one in her mouth before Cersei could say anything. “Thanks again.”

He walked away and she was left with a pleasant glowing feeling despite the chill from the rain. He’d made an awfully good first impression; polite and thoughtful on top of handsome. She’d once wondered if all photographers were as smarmy as Petyr Baelish had been. It was nice to find that was not the case. _Maybe I wouldn't even mind going out with him._ It'd been so long since she'd had a real date, one that wasn't arranged by Cersei to get her some notice. Her and Joffrey could barely tolerate each other for the length of a dinner these days but if Mommy said for him to take her out, he would. _And I stupidly keep agreeing to go..._

Just as she raised the second mini-muffin to her mouth, Cersei was back in her ear. “Careful, little dove. He’s handsome in his way but also very fond of adding notches to his belt with any model he can talk into his bed and then bragging about it to anyone who’ll listen.”

She didn’t allow any outward sign of disgust to show. She was new to this industry and she had a lot to learn but she wasn’t an idiot. Guys were guys and plenty of them turned out to be quite disappointing as individuals once you got to know them. _I would know,_ she thought sadly.

Cersei snapped her fingers and held out her hand. Sansa placed the second muffin in it, watching as she binned it with a sense of regret and misuse. Was that childish of her?

Cersei had been around in this business forever, first as a model and then as an agent. She knew everyone. Even if she wasn’t all that kind, she probably knew what she was talking about when it came to Jon Targaryen, right?

She then observed Jon chatting with his assistant and one of the other models, sharing a laugh. The model had a hand on his arm. Was she flirting? Was he? What had he said? What was he saying now?

_Why do you care?_

She was silly to care. So what if he was handsome and kind…on the surface anyway? Cersei had been kind, too. It wasn’t like she was incapable of enjoying a roll in the sack with a handsome man just for pleasure if it suited her but Sansa had more important things to focus on now. Her career had to come first. More than just her personal interests were at stake. Success here could mean a great deal to someone other than herself and being another notch in some braggart's belt didn't figure into that, did it?

"Time to get wet again, ladies," Jon said good-naturedly a few minutes later with his camera in hand. 

It was raining even harder and his announcement was met with groans but she couldn't help grinning at him despite herself. Their eyes met and she felt a little jolt that she had no business feeling. Jon thoughtfully stroked his chin for a moment, still keeping eye contact with her. What did he see when he looked at her? A fellow professional in the fashion industry? Or a pretty girl he'd like to fuck...and tell his friends about? 

"Actually, I want to do some individuals first. Sansa, are you ready for me?" 

_Am I?_

Cersei smirked and gave her a knowing look. ' _What else would a guy want from you?_ ' that look seemed to say. Then, those emerald green eyes raked her from head to toe before giving a very slight nod of approval. 

"I'm ready, Jon," she said as they stepped out into the rain together. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Dena, for this gorgeous pic set! 
> 
> This turned out to be a really lengthy chapter and I've fiddled with it so much I can barely look at it now. But I wanted to give the Starks' backstory as well as have Jon and Sansa work together again so I hope you'll enjoy it.

  
Four weeks had passed since that rainy Saturday when Jon had met Bran, Lady and Summer at the dog park for the first time. He and Ghost had met up with the three of them a handful of times since then but they weren’t arranging these little doggie playdates…not yet anyway.

Ghost loved having two friends to run around with. His ears would literally droop on the mornings they arrived at the dog park to find no Lady or Summer there. 

Jon had mentioned the park's lack of wheelchair-friendliness to Grenn who was a contractor. Yes, the park was designed with dogs in mind but shouldn't any dog's human companion be able to access it easily? The dual gates were good for keeping dogs in but also made for a tight squeeze with Bran's chair and the lack of space for him to safely park once inside was an issue. Grenn had already come up with some plans but Jon would need to contact the city and see if it was possible to act on them. _Plus, I would want to discuss it with Bran first._

For today though, the two of them settled to watch the dogs play while Jon tried to figure out a way to ask about meeting at the park more regularly and maybe run Grenn's ideas by him. The easiest method would be to exchange numbers but would that seem too forward or something? 

He’d learned that Bran was studying at the nearby university after graduating early. That was no surprise. From what Jon had deduced from their conversations, Bran was brilliant. He was also seventeen. Meanwhile, Jon was twenty-five, an adult who had met Bran by happenstance at the dog park. He wasn’t sure what Bran’s sister would think of a relative stranger calling or texting her kid brother. He’d not met her so it was hard to say.

Nevertheless, Bran was a great guy and Jon was glad to be getting to know him. 

“Thanks for the coffee, Jon.”

“You’re welcome. I took a chance that you might be here today.”

“I love a happy coincidence.” Bran took a sip, clearly savoring it. “I love caffeine after working on a paper all night even more.” 

He grinned and nodded. “It was on my way anyway and I needed the pick-me-up after a late night myself.” 

Xaro had unveiled his new line of lingerie last night and Olenna had insisted Jon attend the soiree with Loras after the runway show since she didn’t want to go. _“He’s annoying and will probably wind up crying.”_

Thus, Jon had gone to mingle as ordered, tugging at his tie and wondering how soon he could make an exit. The night wasn’t a complete waste though. While he was there, he’d been very happy to lay eyes on someone else he’d met for the first time four weeks ago on that rainy Saturday...the beautiful young model Sansa Stark. 

That is until her date appeared by her side. 

Joffrey Baratheon. He could not believe she'd been there with that guy. Cersei’s eldest by her ex, he was a spoiled brat. He’d been trying to catch his big break in the movies since he was younger than Bran. He had appeared in a number of films but his reported unprofessionalism and temper made him unpopular with several producers and directors and he was usually relegated to small roles or appeared in films doomed to flop. It was only Cersei’s connections that kept him working some whispered. 

Why would Sansa be with him? 

_Well, Cersei is her agent and Joffrey has made a name for himself. Plus, they’re loaded and Sansa’s just starting out. Arianne was all into you until her meal ticket came along, wasn’t she?_

He'd _hated_ himself for the jaded bent of his thoughts in that moment. He knew it was wrong to be thinking that of Sansa when he barely knew her and he shouldn’t compare her to Arianne either. 

And the thing was, he didn’t hate Arianne or anything. She’d been pretty clear about what she’d wanted from him. It was his fault for foolishly thinking she'd ever want more when there’d be a billionaire sending her lavish bouquets and priceless jewelry on a daily basis before long. Granted, she’d told him they could still be a side thing whenever Mr. Mopatis was out of the country but that was definitely not something Jon was interested in. 

But, Sansa wasn't Arianne. She'd been so sweet that day they’d worked together. No, he didn't know her all that well but he'd felt like maybe she might be the sort of woman who was looking for someone to really connect with rather than just a good time and another body to step over. But could he be wrong? Lord knew, he'd been wrong plenty of times before and maybe she was the sort who’d date her agent’s son simply to advance her career. Or if that wasn’t the case, why was she with him? Joffrey was a real shit from what Jon had observed of him. Maybe she didn’t know him that well.

_And maybe you need to let it go and not worry about who Sansa Stark goes out with._

But he did care who Sansa Stark went out with even as he told himself it was hopeless. His eyes had been drawn to her throughout the night, her red hair shining like a beacon that he couldn't miss as he'd recalled her perfect poise in front of his camera and her sunny smiles on that rainy day. 

They’d only had the one day of shooting together since Olenna had wound up pleased with the day’s results. And what had he done the next day while warm and dry in front of the television like he'd supposedly wanted all along? He'd legitimately sat there moping. Grenn had given him hell and he'd deserved it but he'd not admitted what was eating at him, that he was pining to see a girl he'd just met. So, long story short, he’d not worked with her since that day but he’d thought about her. He'd thought about her a lot. 

He had gone over to speak during the after party at last when he’d not been able to stand himself any longer. She'd been blissfully alone at the moment and his palms had grown ridiculously sweaty as he'd approached. But she’d smiled and been so friendly, putting him completely at ease for the thirty seconds they'd had alone together. His hopes had been on the rise...and then Joffrey had returned. 

_“_ _This party sucks. I thought with it being a lingerie thing there'd be models in thongs serving drinks or something, didn't you, Targaryen?"_ Sansa had flushed as Jon had scowled at him. _"Come on, Sansa. We're going,"_ he'd said next before taking her by the wrist (a little too assertively in Jon's opinion).

_"It's early as these things go, Joffrey, and maybe Sansa would like to stay. Have you ever met Xaro? He'd love you...even if he winds up crying when I introduce you."_

_"Why would he do that?"_

_"Beats me. Man cries at the drop of a hat but that's just Xaro. Don't take it personally."_

She'd laughed until Joffrey had impatiently cleared his throat, glaring at them both. She'd looked between him and Joffrey, clearly a little uncertain as to what to do. It was on the tip of his tongue to offer her a ride home if Joffrey really wanted to go but then he worried about creating discord between her and Joffrey with...well, whatever they were. 

_"Maybe some other time, Jon,"_ she’d said regretfully as Joffrey had stalked away.

Jon hadn't known what to think by that point, thus his jaded thoughts had followed. 

_What makes you think she'd want to date you anyway?_

_Fair point but why would she date him???_

“You alright, Jon?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry,” he told Bran, dragging his focus back to the present and the person sitting beside him. 

“Work or a lady?”

“What?”

“Is it work troubling you or a lady?”

He chuckled. “What makes you think it's either?”

“Just a guess.”

“Well, good guess. Kind of both, I suppose. It's nothing serious though.” That tasted like a lie no sooner than he said it. 

Bran nodded thoughtfully before glancing at his watch. He called Lady and Summer to him and all three dogs' ears were drooping. Hell, Jon felt a little down over it, too. 

“Hey, Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“Would it be weird if I asked for your number so we could arrange meeting here regularly…for the dogs?”

“No, that wouldn’t be weird at all. That'd be great.” 

Bran pulled out his phone to add him to his contacts. His phone buzzed as he was tapping it in and he rolled his eyes. “Geez, I’m coming,” he muttered.

“School troubling you or a lady?” Jon asked jokingly.

“She's a lady but also my sister. She's a real mother hen sometimes."

“Big sisters can be protective just like big brothers, I’d say.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely that.”

"I've got two half-siblings but...well, the whole situation is awkward and we've never been close. It probably sounds odd but I always wanted a brother or sister. It's nice you two are close."

"Yeah, it is," he said, a fond smile lighting his face now. “I’ll see you, Jon. I’m getting the coffee next time.”

“You got it.”

* * *

Sansa drew a deep breath as she picked up the letter opener, gingerly sliding it under the edge of the envelope as her heart pounded. Her palms started to feel sweaty. She pulled out the letter with the government seal at the top. She only had to read the first few words for her heart to sink. 

Denied...again.

She heard the key jiggling in the lock of the apartment door as tears clouded her vision. She brushed them away and shoved the letter back in its envelope and under the stack of horrid bills she’d not wanted to look at until she knew their answer. 

“Oh, good! You’re here!” she called brightly as Lady and Summer came racing towards her, their wagging tails banishing those tears and bringing the smile back to her face. 

Bran wheeled himself into the kitchen a moment later, his cheeks bright red from the cold. 

“Where are your gloves?!”

“Here somewhere, I suppose. The dogs were eager to be off," he said a touch irritably. 

She bit her tongue to refrain from any further clucking over forgotten gloves and clasped his frozen hands in hers instead. He was always in a hurry to get down to the dog park with them. He often forgot his gloves when he was but he couldn't stick his hands in his pockets and wheel his chair along. However, he would only tolerate so much mothering from her. 

_He’s not a little boy,_ she reminded herself. He was practically a man. She still worried. 

“I would’ve gone with you if I’d known you were going.” She kept any sign of reproach out of her voice as she chaffed his hands for the precious few seconds he’d allow her to. 

“The dogs and I would’ve loved your company but you were tired and we were fine.” He pulled his hands back from hers but did so gently before removing his scarf and jacket. She silently took them to hang up. “Did you eat?"

"Yes." 

She _had_ eaten but not much. A cheese cube and half a mandarin orange. It was enough. Her stomach growled audibly in protest and Bran frowned at her. Sansa knew he worried about her, too. _We have no mother or father now so we pour ourselves into caring for each other._

Cersei had been on her about her weight lately and Joffrey had even made a comment last night, likely put up to it by his mother. It made her a nervous wreck all this obsession with weight she was encountering everywhere in the business. That stack of bills waiting for her didn't help matters either. 

"Do you want me to fix you something to eat?" she asked Bran to deflect. 

"No, I'll grab a bite on campus before class. I would've eaten earlier but I had a hunch Lady and Summer's friend might be there today if we went early enough.”

“Oh, the albino? Was he there?”

“Yeah.” Bran leaned forward to give both dogs affectionate scratches and hugs, speaking in that tone he reserved solely for their beloved canines. "Ghost was there, wasn't he, babies? You all had a fine time together, didn't you? We're going to see more of him, I promise."

“And was his owner there?”

“Yeah, of course. He brought me a coffee on the chance I might be there.”

“He brought you a coffee?” 

“Uh huh. I got his number so we could arrange times to meet.”

"Oh?" A pregnant pause and then, "What's he like?"

"He's nice, Sansa."

"But how old is he, Bran? What does he do? Do you know if he lives nearby or..."

"He's nice, Sansa," he repeated with a huff. "Don't worry."

“Bran…”

“Sansa…”

Everything in his expression was a warning. Bran was very smart and he had a healthy dose of street smarts, too. She needed to trust his judgment when it came to talking to strangers, who he wanted to get to know or make friends with.

He was also seventeen and she was his sister as well as his legal guardian. 

“Just be…careful.” 

“I am, I promise.” His eyes fell on the stack of bills. Naturally, he spied the letter. “Another no?” Her shoulders slumped and she felt him grasping her hand now. “I’m sorry, Sansa.” 

Immediately, those blasted tears were trying to come back. “Don't say sorry to me," she sniffed. "It’s not about me. It’s...ugh, I hate money!"

“I’m fine and we’re not starving or anything. Soon, you'll be rich and famous, right?" She scoffed. "It's you and me now but we'll be okay, won't we?"

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh before pressing her forehead to his. "I love you, Bran."

"Aw, c'mon, Sansa..." She pouted and he grinned. "I love you, too." 

He was right. They had each other and she was grateful for that. 

Three years ago, Sansa had been a freshman in college with no real cares beyond her grades and circle of friends. Her friend Jeyne Poole had asked her if she’d want to be in her dad’s appliance store's new commercial. She’d had a couple of phone calls after the ad ran on the local channels for several weeks and been asked to do some print work modeling. Standing around and posing could be boring but mostly it was alright and having a little mad money had been fun. She’d even been invited to participate in a regional model search.

Then, Bran had been struck by a motorist while riding his bike to school one morning and everything had changed. 

The motorist had sped away and Bran had been left paralyzed from the waist down. There’d been no witnesses and no one had come forward but Bran was alive. That was what Sansa and her parents had clung to. 

However, the medical bills had been enormous and their father’s health insurance didn’t cover it all. They’d been scrambling to pay what they could, waiting on government assistance as they'd taken on a second mortgage, bled through their retirement fund, maxed out credit cards and finally filed for bankruptcy. And all the while, they'd been doing whatever they could to keep Sansa in college and, for better or worse, shielded their children from the sorry state of their finances. 

They'd probably thought they'd have time to earn it back. They were wrong. 

Eighteen months after Bran’s accident, Ned and Catelyn Stark had been killed in an auto collision. Sansa and Bran had been devastated, both too depressed to do more than muddle through for the first three months afterwards. And then, when Sansa had tried to return to college the following semester, she’d been called to the bursar’s office and told her tuition was overdue. There was very little life insurance money. Her father had let the larger, more expensive policy lapse during their financial troubles. 

Sansa had gone to that model search though between Bran’s accident and her parents’ death. She’d caught more than a few sets of eyes…including Cersei Lannister’s. But even with Cersei covering some of Sansa's initial expenses, there were still costs involved when a person wanted to get into modeling as a career. And while Bran’s tuition was covered by scholarship money, little else was. His wheelchair was in miserable shape and Sansa wanted him to be able to return to weekly therapy sessions. There were still debts to pay and living in the city was three times as expensive as Sansa had thought it’d be but she was on the brink of success in the top tier of the fashion industry. If she could just hang in there, all those horrible bills and debts would be a thing of the past. 

“So, how was it last night?” Bran asked, breaking in on her thoughts. “Lots of pretty knickers on display?”

She laughed. “Yeah, plenty of those if you can afford to spend $200 for a pair of panties or $400 for a bra. Don’t even ask me about the navy blue Mulberry silk robe and chemise set trimmed with Chantilly lace I had my eye on.”

“The what?”

“Trust me. It was love at first sight.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that,” Bran chuckled. “But how was your night otherwise?”

“It was…okay.” Bran tilted his head to the side, giving her that patented Bran Stark Stare. “It had a highlight or two.”

“I’ll bet Joffrey wasn’t one of them.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Then, stop going places with him.”

Bran couldn’t stand Joffrey and Sansa couldn’t blame him. Cersei’s son was a jerk to put it mildly. Initially, Cersei had acted as if she wanted to play matchmaker with them but it had soon become clear that it was just about making Joff look good with a pretty girl on his arm for premieres or whatever. And as Sansa’s star had started to rise, it had turned into letting Joffrey enjoy some of her reflected limelight since his film career was teetering. 

They weren’t romantic in the slightest. Sansa didn’t really like him and she didn’t think he liked her much either. He didn’t seem to like much of anything besides himself. He’d not attempted one of his slobbery kisses since their third date when Sansa had politely told him she wasn’t interested in a relationship nor anything casual with him. Joffrey was good looking but his personality was such that her stomach actually recoiled at the thoughts of that with him. 

But Cersei was still arranging these little outings for the benefit of her son and her protégé… _and I’m still too big of a coward to say no to her._

The thing was, she felt like she was forever running a race to stay in Cersei’s good graces. She needed the doors she could open for her. She needed the jobs she could send her way. And she hated it. She hated being dependent on her agent who was not remotely a nice person. It made her feel like a coward for not putting her foot down when it came to Joffrey at least but she was afraid of pissing Cersei off. She'd convinced her to move to this city, one of the hubs of the fashion industry, and got her to sign a contract. What if she just suddenly dropped her? What if she made those doors slam in Sansa's face? What would that mean for her and Bran? If they were forced to go back home and Bran had to drop out of college, then what?

And unfortunately, when it came to pleasing Cersei, it was starting to appear that race Sansa was running was really more of a marathon while chained to a hamster wheel. She feared she’d never break free and cross the finish line.

Even her initial hopes after the _Highgarden_ shoot seemed slim since they'd not called her back for the second day and she’d not heard from them since. Cersei had told her it was probably because they'd not liked her that much. 

But someone had seemed to and that led to the highlight of last night...running into Jon Targaryen. 

Whether or not he was the lothario Cersei made him out to be, Sansa had liked the handsome photographer. She’d thought of him more than once since that rainy Saturday. 

She'd seen him at the runway show but she didn't think he'd spotted her sitting four rows back listening to Joffrey complain while he was seated next to Olenna's grandson and taking pictures. It didn't matter, she'd told herself. He probably didn't really remember every pretty girl he photographed anyway...maybe just the ones he slept with stood out. That was unfair of her and she'd chided herself for the thought afterwards. 

He'd looked very suave in his suit and tie but his smile had been sweetly uncertain when he'd approached her at the after party. But a few seconds of conversation and he was perfectly charming. He’d even offered to introduce her to Xaro, a major designer no matter how often he cried, which was something Cersei never seemed keen to do. 

What would she have given to have been at that event with Jon Targaryen instead of Joffrey? 

_Quite a bit, I'm afraid._

Even if she might never be more than another boudoir conquest for him, would it be worth it to at least have a pleasant evening with a guy like Jon instead of suffering through any more pathetic outings with Joffrey?

_But would that be enough? And what would that look like? Like you were sleeping with Highgarden's top photographer just to get yourself more exposure?_

She wasn't sure. This whole gossipy, superficial industry was so foreign to her. And, she didn't want people saying she was a success because she was warming anyone else's bed or being someone’s arm candy. 

_Arm candy...like you are for Joffrey._

“Hey, Bran?"

"Yeah?"

"The next time Joffrey calls me up or Cersei tries to arrange something…remind me that I’m going to say no.”

"I'll hold you to that."

"Good."

* * *

Deadlines were starting to loom for the next issue and everyone’s tempers were running a little short. 

Actually, Jon’s wasn’t. He’d passed a pleasant morning at the dog park with Bran before work. Ghost was loving having regular playmates and he'd taken Grenn's ideas along to share today. Bran had been excited by them in his quiet way and made a couple of suggestions of things neither Jon nor Grenn had thought of. Jon would take them back to Grenn later and then they'd talk to someone with the city that Sam knew. 

This morning though, he focused on enjoying his and Bran's discussion of astronomy and action flicks. It was a nice change of pace from the customary topics Jon listened to at work, like who was getting plastic surgery and who had been invited to Varys' exclusive gala. _Not me, thank God._

But talk of the cover and who’d be on it had started and suddenly he was quite invested in this decision. Val had had to drop out last minute after catching the flu. 

“How about Alyce?” Margaery said, suggesting her favorite cousin at the moment. The Tyrells did like to keep success in the family. 

“No, not Alyce," Olenna sniffed. "Much as I love my granddaughter, she's not a cover girl. We need someone whose face can sell magazines."

“What about Taena Merryweather?” Mace asked. “Not seen her in a while. Lovely dark eyes and…” He gestured towards his chest, cupping his own C cups and grinning at his little joke as his children groaned.

“You’ve not seen her because she’s on maternity leave. Now, do us a favor and keep quiet,” his mother told him. 

“Missandei’s in town and available,” Loras offered. 

Olenna pursed her lips. “Well, I suppose we could…”

Jon's mouth opened before his brain had time to reconsider. “You had Missandei on the cover three issues ago and Val was your cover six months ago. Why not use someone new?” 

All eyes turned his way and he nervously adjusted his collar. They had a good working relationship but this was the first time he’d spoken up during one of these planning meetings over something this big. It wasn’t the photographer's decision who wound up on the cover. He was there to take the pictures of whichever beauty they stood in front of him. 

Everyone was staring at him but only one of them mattered. “Go on.” God, her look was skewering. 

“What about…” He drew a breath for courage and spit it out. “I was thinking…I want Sansa Stark.”

“Sansa? Who’s Sansa?” Mace asked. 

Olenna rolled her eyes at her son before giving Jon her full attention. She raised her eyebrows and lowered her reading glasses. “Despite the fact that I adore you, Jon, your private desires don’t really concern me.”

He grimaced, ignoring the snickers around him and the heat flooding his cheeks. “I didn’t mean it like that! I want Sansa for this shoot. You’re…” He rose from his seat and walked over to the design board, knowing he was going to piss off a decent guy and wishing that wasn’t the case. “You’re going with the Weirwood theme for this issue, you said, with the white branches and red leaves. But what if instead of fake trees surrounding your model, you used a model who could sort of… _embody_ a Weirwood.” 

“I spent weeks on those fucking trees!” Garlan cried.

“No one’s saying we couldn’t put them in the issue.” _Table of contents page for your paper mâché nightmares._

“They’re for the cover! Granny said...”

“My apologies, Garlan, but isn’t the model and what she’s wearing more important when it comes to a fashion magazine than the props? With her ivory skin and red hair she’d really look…”

“You want that beautiful girl to pretend to be a tree, Jon?” Olenna asked.

“No! I mean…no!” More snickers and too late he realized she was teasing him. Was the idea that stupid? His reservations didn’t stop him from trying again. “She’s a new talent people will want to see more of. She's got a face that will sell magazines, Olenna, and isn't that the point? You could give her her first cover.”

“Sounds like _you_ want to give her her first cover, Jon.”

“I…” He did. In an industry filled with beautiful people, why was hers all he could picture when he looked through a camera lately? “You said I could have a say.”

“Yes, a say. I still say who goes on the cover of _Highgarden_.”

Everyone nodded piously in agreement. Anyone who suggested she was losing her touch would rue the fucking day. He wasn’t suggesting such a thing. He just wanted a chance to shoot her again, see her and speak with her, preferably without half a dozen other models around or Cersei if he could manage to keep the harridan out. _And that goes double for Joffrey Fucking Baratheon._

He held his breath, waiting for the moment to pass and Olenna to proceed with other plans, leaving him properly vanquished for having a thought that didn’t coincide with everyone else’s. 

That didn’t happen. She tapped her pen on the papers in front of her and made a show of wiping off her reading glasses before speaking. “Renly?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Ring up Cersei and see if Miss Stark would be available for Jon to shoot on…Wednesday. Tell her we’re working on the next issue but if you value your balls half as much as my grandson values them, don’t you dare mention the cover.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Loras, put her in Xaro's latest. It’s going in the issue anyway.” 

Jon was doing his best to breathe normally again until his brain latched on to _who_ Sansa would be wearing. _Xaro's latest? Oh, fucking hell!_

“Give me something special, Jon, and we’ll see,” Olenna told him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. 

* * *

Shae, Loras, Ros, the stylist, and Halder, who was in charge of the lights, were present for the shoot along with himself and Sansa. Halder was also friends with Grenn and Jon had a feeling he’d better keep any complaints about his job to himself for a while if he didn't want his roommate to poison him. 

In light makeup and tattered jeans with a sheer white blouse, she looked like a daydream. Both innocent and alluring with that blouse unbuttoned to show off one of Xaro's ludicrously expensive bras underneath in a soft silvery color. There was a good deal of cleavage and belly on display and her cheeks had been flushed a peachy pink when she’d come out from behind the curtain but he'd got her talking, allowing her to relax as Ros touched up her eyes and taking her mind off her state of dress so they could take some pictures. Meanwhile, he was doing his best to keep his eyes from darting below chin level. 

Xaro's latest. Olenna would want sexy.

_So, let’s make it sexy._

“Could you, _um_ …sit on the bed?” He gulped and pointed, strangely embarrassed by their small audience. 

She nodded and sat on the edge. She still looked jittery as he started shooting so he asked Shae to hand him one of the roses in the nearby vase. He handed it to Sansa, earning him a questioning smile. 

"Hold it up to your face and then drag it slowly along your cheek and jaw for me." It must've tickled when she did that because she gave him the most adorable, precious smile somewhere between a grin and a laugh. He loved it. He was also envious of a flower. "Perfect," he murmured.

Watching his eyes as they kept shooting, she must've read his mind when he'd taken several of her with the rose. She laid it aside and lounged back on the bed before he had to ask. Crisp white sheets with her red hair spread all around her. She was a vision. 

“May I?” He gestured and she sat up, allowing him to fluff the pillow. “Lie back again, please.” His voice sounded a little unsteady but she gave him another smile, touched by that blush again which made his pulse jump. “I just want to…” He reached out, her eyes tracking his movements. His hand froze. "Do you mind?" 

She shook her head and he pushed the blouse up enough to expose more of her hip. She swallowed hard when his fingertips brushed her bare skin. He was feeling short of breath. He hadn’t meant to touch her torso. Ordinarily, neither he nor the model would think anything of it. It was all about staging, getting the right look. So why was he feeling like a teenager seeing a girl without her top on for the first time?

 _Focus. You’re a professional, for fuck’s sake._

“How do you want my hands?” she asked, breaking some of the tension.

“Put one up by your head and the other right here on your hip.” She did as he said, catching on to what he wanted before he even knew exactly how he wanted it to look. “Can you muss your hair a bit?”

She nodded and effortlessly got the look he wanted. 

“How’s it going?” He couldn’t say he was terribly surprised by Olenna popping by.

“Terrific. She's amazing. Sansa, can you tilt your chin down a bit?”

They were in perfect sync as he kept shooting. The lighting was ideal in here. Her hair had become a beautiful red halo, making her skin seem to glow. 

She had a few freckles and to him, it only added to her beauty even though he knew they’d be airbrushed out. The consumers got a marketed form of beauty, someone’s idea of perfection, sterile and untouched by nature in a weird way. He saw each woman’s spots, spider veins, little scars, freckles, moles and stretch marks as just part of who she was. He didn’t think them any less beautiful for them. But Sansa…God, he was enthralled by those freckles. He wanted to trace them with his finger. _Or my tongue._

“How daring are you feeling, darling?” Olenna asked Sansa after a little while and Jon swallowed a groan.

He could see a flash of concern in her eyes but her voice didn’t betray a thing. “How daring do you want me to be, Mrs. Tyrell?”

“Could you lose the blouse? We’re selling a bra, aren’t we?”

That peachy pink shade was back but she sat up and removed the blouse, biting at her lip as her blue eyes fluttered up to meet his. He had to look away for a second to compose himself.

Holy fuck, she was a goddess. 

She wanted to please Olenna and this wasn’t nearly the raciest thing he’d ever shot but she was new. Some girls wouldn’t think twice about wearing nothing but a bra in front of six strangers. Some girls would and he could tell Sansa was one of them. 

“Hang on. I wanna try something.” Handing her the pillow, he positioned himself in front of her, blocking out some of the others. “Sit on the edge of the bed and tuck it right under the bra. Kind of hug it.”

She smiled and he was almost certain she knew what he was doing. It wasn’t going to sell a bra. It was about putting her at ease again. He could hear Olenna’s soft chuckle but ignored it. She still looked like a goddess. 

He started shooting once more, letting her get comfortable with that little barrier in place. Her eyes were soft as she looked up from beneath her lashes at him among that curtain of red hair that was spread across the pillowcase and her white shoulders. The silver stood out and maybe this damn well could sell a bra.

Once Olenna drifted off and she was comfortable again, she laid the pillow aside. "Thank you," she whispered.

"I'm just the one taking the pictures," he demurred. "The rest is all you, Sansa."

* * *

They were done but Ros was brushing out her hair as Sansa stared into the mirror. She wasn’t really looking at herself though. She was reliving the past ninety minutes as she relished the luxury of Mulberry silk and Chantilly lace a little longer. 

The chemise was the very one she’d fallen in love with at the show a week ago and she’d gasped when Loras had told her to put it on next after the bra. She knew models sometimes got to keep the clothes they wore for shoots or shows. She doubted she’d get to keep this. Who would she wear it for anyway? She couldn’t very well prance around the apartment in front of Bran like this. 

But she knew there was someone she'd enjoy wearing it in front of...or wearing it for again. 

_“Walk away from me but look back over your shoulder as you do. Maybe trail your fingers along the wall like you’re leading me towards the bedroom.”_

_I’d love to lead you towards the bedroom._

_“Do you…um, would you mind letting one of the straps slip off your shoulder?”_

He’d reddened with that request and she probably had, too. She didn’t care. He was so sweet and she just knew she’d never looked half so good in anything. Instead of feeling exposed like she’d feared, she’d actually wound up feeling pretty fucking amazing. That was thanks to Jon.

_“You’re stunning, Sansa. You look like an angel. God, right there. Don’t move a muscle.”_

He’d been excited she could tell, his chest heaving as he kept shooting while kneeling on the bed, looming over her and giving directions in that husky voice of his. 

And she’d laid back in her chemise, giving him her best 'Come Hither' stare while trying to ignore the fact that she could feel his warm jeans-clad knee against her calf and that he was making her hot purely with his voice and his proximity. She’d wanted him to lay that camera down and forgo their manufactured fantasy for something a little more real. 

_You really are a novice, getting turned on by a photographer while he’s just trying to get the look he wants._

She couldn’t help it and, novice or not, no one had ever got her worked up like that just by taking pictures of her.

“Someone was extra chatty behind the lens today,” Ros said unexpectedly. 

Sansa startled, thinking she was speaking to her at first.

“He gets more talkative when he's really getting into a shoot,” Shae answered. 

"He definitely seemed enthusiastic...more than I've ever seen him," Ros laughed quietly.

Shae snorted. "I agree." 

They weren’t talking to her. Sometimes, she wondered if the stylists and other crew members saw the models as actual human beings who could talk. They often seemed to talk over her as if she wasn’t there. Granted, some models behaved as if they were too good to speak to anyone below a designer or fashion editor. She didn’t want anyone to think that was her.

“It’s nice to see him enjoying himself," Ros continued. "I’ve not seen him in several months. He was pretty downcast the last time after…you know.” 

Ros trailed off as Shae shot her a look before Sansa saw them both look at her through the mirror. Maybe they did know she was here. Sansa tried not to express too much curiosity over that ‘you know’ but there must be some story there. 

“How long have you worked with Jon, Shae?” she asked. She was here and she might as well be part of this conversation.

“Nearly two years." 

There was a tightness in her expression, a hint of suspicion and defensiveness there. Why? What had she done? 

Then, like a flash, intuition whispered a name in her ear. _Cersei_. 

“You must know him pretty well. He seems…he was really very understanding earlier. I know it might sound silly but I've never modeled lingerie before and I was nervous. I really appreciated how respectful he was. I’ve not encountered many people so kind here.” She drew a quiet breath, suddenly scared she was going to reveal too much on her end. She couldn’t go around badmouthing Cersei, could she? That would hardly be prudent. “Anyway, it’s been an adjustment since I moved here and I liked working with him.”

“Jon's one of the very best to work with and I think you’ll get to work with him some more,” Ros said, smirking.

She turned to the stylist, her eyes widening as her hopes rose. “Really?”

Shae nodded, her expression much softer than earlier. “Yeah. In fact...you can't tell Cersei but Jon's pushing for you to be cover of the issue.”

“Jon wants me for the cover? Of _Highgarden_? But isn’t that up to Mrs. Tyrell?”

“Yeah, this was Olenna’s little test. I’d say you passed with flying colors.”

“Wow.” She was gobsmacked. She’d not imagined she might rate a cover so soon, especially the cover of _Highgarden_. "I'm...I don't even know what I am."

It must’ve been obvious because both women chuckled at her incredulous expression. 

“You can’t tell Cersei, Sansa,” Shae said again. 

She met Shae’s dark eyes in the mirror. Maybe this was a little test, too. “I won’t. I’m not sure if she’d be pleased or not.”

“One of her models landing the cover of _Highgarden?_ She'll be pleased,” Ros said.

“Yeah but she’s…it’s kind of odd between us sometimes.” 

"What do you mean, honey?"

"I...uh..." 

She didn’t mean to tell them too much but a little, that was alright, wasn’t it?

 _Okay, maybe more than just a little._

“God, Joffrey’s such a shit,” Ros grumbled a few minutes later. “I can’t believe she’s making you feel like you’ve got to go out with him.”

“You’re beautiful, Sansa, and there’s not a damn thing wrong with your weight. Don’t let her make you feel bad about eating,” Shae told her. “She loves keeping her models insecure, I think. Plus, she’s probably paranoid about losing you to Olenna.”

“Does Cersei have anything against Olenna? Or Jon?”

“The rivalry and petty snipping between Olenna and Cersei goes back decades since Cersei was a model. Lots of bad blood between them even though they play nice these days.”

“And Jon?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. None of that's Jon’s fault but he works for Olenna and…well, he can’t help who he is.”

“What does that mean?”

Ros chimed in, “He’s the son of Lyanna Snow, one of Cersei’s top rivals back in her modeling days."

"And he definitely gets his looks from his mother."

"Cersei’s ex-husband had a pretty severe thing for her when they were all younger. There were lots of rumors that he never wanted to marry Cersei and it was…well, it was a bad situation. You might almost feel sorry for her if she wasn’t such a bitch.” 

Shae took over. “And then, Jon’s also the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the publishing giant, a man Cersei made no bones about wanting once upon a time before she married Robert…and the man who spurned her for…”

“Lyanna,” Sansa finished in a whisper.

“Yeah," Ros said. "But it was already a big scandal since Jon’s father was married when he hooked up with his mom and then she wound up pregnant. Anyway, a quickie divorce from wifey number one, an impromptu wedding right before Jon was born and then a very ugly divorce when he was five, complete with a nasty custody battle that went on and on. His parents still can't be in the same room together for more than ten minutes." 

Shae shook her head. "Jon doesn’t like talking about any of this and I think we've gossiped enough for one night, Ros.”

Sansa mulled that information over as she changed back into her street clothes, bidding the beautiful lingerie set adieu at last. It didn’t sound like Jon had had a very happy childhood. At least, her and Bran had had that before everything turned out so horrible. 

It also sounded like Jon Targaryen might be the last person Cersei wanted to see one of her models dating. Cersei was her agent and a lot was riding on her being a success. She had Bran to think of as well as herself. 

All the same, she was drawn to him. She had been from the start and she wanted to talk to Jon, get to know him better but she’d keep the information she’d learned to herself and let him share it with her someday if he wished. 

Shae and Ros were heading out for drinks and invited her along but she declined. She was hoping to see Jon before he disappeared. He wasn't in the studio and she figured she'd already missed her chance. 

But when she was tugging on her jacket as she exited the studio, she saw him standing beside her car. He waved at her, a shy sort of wave considering he'd been taking pictures of her the past two hours. He raked his fingers through those curls of his. Her belly erupted with butterflies. He was gorgeous and he’d waited for her. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I hope you don’t mind me waiting here.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You were absolutely amazing today, Sansa.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t have…you were so kind and…” 

“Nah, I was just doing my job but I think Olenna’s going to have Renly call Cersei again soon.” 

He rubbed his palms along his jeans. Was he nervous? God, she was. She was also hoping that maybe he was about to ask her out. The thought of it thrilled her in a manner similar to Shae mentioning the possible cover earlier...and the fact that _Jon_ wanted her on that cover.

He started nodding to himself and she recognized the look of someone working themselves up to something. She’d done it earlier before stepping out behind the curtain in that bra. 

“So, I know it’s getting late and I desperately hope this doesn’t sound creepy coming from the guy who just photographed you in lingerie but would you want to grab something to eat with me?"

Her heart was hammering in her chest and she wanted to say yes more than anything in the world but her phone started ringing at that exact moment. She wanted to ignore it so badly. If it’d been anyone else, she would have. But it was Bran’s particular ringtone and Bran wasn’t just anyone. 

“I’m sorry. I just need to answer this real quick,” she said apologetically. 

He nodded, taking a step away. He looked so nervous and she hated keeping him waiting for her answer. 

“They cut off the electricity,” her brother said without preamble as soon as she answered. 

“What?!”

“I tried calling but its in your name and I’m a minor and basically, they’re all assholes at the power company.”

“But I paid it on time and…” 

Pride flared and she bit back the rest of her words. She was embarrassed to have this conversation in front of Jon. Even with him politely stepping back, he was bound to overhear her end of it. She didn’t want him to hear about their electricity being cut off. _I paid that goddamn bill!_

“I’m finished for tonight so I'll be there soon. Don’t worry and I love you,” she told her brother before hanging up and turning back to Jon. “I’m so sorry. I’ve got to go and…”

She wasn’t sure how to explain without telling him all of it and he didn’t let her finish anyway. He was shaking his head and giving her something between a grimace and a grin.

  
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got hundreds of fantastic pictures of you to narrow down to fifty or so for Olenna by tomorrow.” He raised his dark eyes to hers and that grimace turned into the sweetest and yet saddest smile she’d ever seen. “You’re going to be a household name someday soon, Sansa Stark, and I got to take your picture."

"Jon..."

"Drive safely going home, alright?” he said abruptly as he spun away, heading towards his own car. 

The butterflies had melted away and a throbby sort of ache was building in her chest. She had a little brother and two dogs sitting in their crappy apartment with no lights or heat tonight. But it was watching Jon Targaryen walk away that had her wanting to sit down on the pavement and have herself a good cry at the moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still laboring under the delusion that I'm going to finish this with one more chapter. I'm not sure I'd bet money on it. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gorgeous mood board by @sweetaprilbutterfly aka LadyAnastastia. Thank you, my dear!

It was Wednesday again, one week since the lingerie shoot and one week since Sansa had shot him down. Yes, she’d been very kind about it and maybe he’d thought she’d been about to say yes to going out with him before her phone had rang. However, the fact remained that she’d left after that call, or rather he’d left first, with her words to the person on the other end of the line ringing in his ears.

_“I’m finished for tonight so I'll be there soon. Don’t worry and I love you.”_

Convinced it was another man she’d been talking to (he’d _hoped_ it wasn’t Joffrey but that’s who he’d landed on), he’d immediately accepted her refusal and bid her goodnight before retreating to the quiet of his car where he felt more than just dejected and deflated. He’d felt fucking depressed as hell.

Later that night, he’d been drinking with Grenn and Sam who’d come over with pizza and finally confessed what was eating at him after they’d been ragging on him for brooding long enough.

_“And this guy was with her at the runway thing?”_

_“Yeah,”_ he’d answered, nursing his fourth beer and feeling very sorry for himself. _“I thought maybe…things really clicked between us during the shoot. I wanted to get to know her better and find out if there was anything between them and if there could possibly be something between us instead. I stood in the parking lot for forty-five minutese waiting by her car while she changed or whatever.”_

 _“Changed back into clothes after posing in lingerie for you, you mean?”_ Grenn had asked.

_“Well…yeah.”_

_“God, I hate you sometimes,”_ he’d said but with no real malice.

_“Fuck off. I knew I shouldn’t have told you which designer it was for, you closet fashionista.”_

_“Meh, Halder told me about it already.”_

_“Ah, I should’ve figured. So, yeah, it was a lingerie shoot but she could’ve worn a burlap sack and I would’ve wanted to ask her out. Anyway, I stood there working myself up but…”_

_“How do you know that ‘I love you’ was for that Joffrey guy?”_ Sam had interrupted.

_“Yeah. What makes you so sure of that? Could’ve been her mother or something.”_

_“I…”_

_“You said you wanted to get to know her better. What do you know about her personal life? Just because she attended a runway show with some dreadful pretty boy actor doesn’t mean they’re serious.”_

_“Yeah, Jon. For better or worse, I know how you operate. You wouldn’t have been working yourself up to ask her out if you’d been convinced her and shithead were really a thing.”_

It’s funny sometimes how friends can open your eyes even when you've got blinders firmly in place. Even well on his way to sauced, Jon had had to admit he didn’t know who that ‘I love you’ was for or much of anything about her personal life for that matter.

And, there had been a definite tension, a vibe between them during the shoot that he hadn’t thought he was misinterpreting too horribly. His ego was not so huge that he made a habit of asking out women unless he was pretty confident that they wouldn’t laugh in his face at least.

So why had he let one ‘I love you’ send him scurrying away? His ego might not be enormous but it wasn’t that fragile either, was it?

It _could_ have been her mother or father she was talking to. Hell, she was only twenty-one and living in this godforsaken city, working in a career that regularly chewed up and spit out young women like her. She might still live with them. He kind of hoped she did in a way because, while she'd shown him her own sort of bravery during the shoot, there was part of him that felt protective of her and he hoped someone in this world felt the same.

_Face it, you’re smitten with her but what do you know about this woman beyond the fact that she seems very sweet and looks fucking amazing in silk and lace?_

He needed to get to know the woman behind the beautiful face and not make so many assumptions regarding her career ambitions or Joffrey. He was just uncertain about where to start…or how to start again.

_Your experiences have left you jaded, especially Arianne. You need to let some of that go if you’re ever going to move on._

He’d let his heart become entangled in something that was doomed from Day One but he’d been so lonely. He’d wanted more than casual with someone even then although he’d known deep down that things would never work long term between them. He’d just wanted to find out if there could be something real out there for him like his mother had finally found with his step-father rather than the misery she’d known with his dad after their initial flame had burned so hot and then nearly destroyed them before it was done.

So here it was Wednesday again and Olenna was holding a meeting bright and early this morning where the cover of the next issue would be decided. Jon wanted to be there and he knew traffic would be a bitch so he asked Grenn if he’d take Ghost to the dog park. “Bran has early class on Wednesdays so Lady and Summer won’t be there and you can take a look at that gate and see if the one you’ve got in mind will work.”

His roommate readily agreed saying, “Maybe I’ll meet the elusive sister instead,” with a wink before walking out the door.

Jon nearly called him back and offered to take Ghost regardless of how late it would run him. He wanted to meet Bran’s sister not only because she was his sister and apparently his guardian but to find out a little more of their family history. Bran had shared some things and was tight-lipped about others. Jon could hardly fault him for it but he was curious and more than a little concerned to be honest.

 _“What’s wrong with your chair?”_ he’d asked when they’d met with the dogs on Thursday last week.

Bran had been leaning over precariously to adjust something with one of his wheels. Jon had feared he might tip over and had hurried to his side to steady him and offer his aid.

_“Stupid caster came loose again. It happens on the regular with this piece of shit.”_

_“Do you need me to…”_

_“I’ve got it, Jon,”_ Bran had replied tersely. Jon had nodded, afraid he’d offended him. Bran had noticed once he was upright again and not so red-faced from his efforts. _“Sorry, it was a rough night.”_ He’d went on to share the story. _“The power company assholes would never admit they’d made a mistake but, after one rather chilly night and my sister spending a ridiculous amount of time on hold with them, the power came back on again like magic this morning.”_

What he’d read between the lines in Bran’s tale and the sorry state of his wheelchair was that him and his sister had been struggling financially and Jon hated to hear it.

All the same, he was certain Bran’s sister wouldn’t want to give an account of herself to some stranger right off the bat this morning whether he met her today or not and he had somewhere to be anyway.

_Sansa. You’re going to see if Olenna will give her the cover today…and then you’re going to figure out what to do next._

The apartment door opened just as he was ready to go. Grenn’s bushy beard didn’t hide his red cheeks and nose.

“Cold out?”

“Colder than a witch’s tit. Better bundle up.” Jon knelt to pet Ghost and remove his lead while Grenn took off his gloves, hat and coat. “I, uh…I think I might've seeen Bran’s sister.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, _yeah_ ,” Grenn said in a tone that was unmistakable.

Jon grinned. “She pretty?”

“Fuck me, she’s gorgeous.”

“Huh.” He’d not given much thought to what Bran’s sister might look like. He’d assumed fairly young but apparently a beauty, too. “So, Summer and Lady were there?”

“I assume so. They were two huskies and Ghost immediately started running around with them like they were buddies.” Grenn stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked decidedly bashful, always an interesting look on a guy Grenn’s size. “I’ll confess I wasn’t watching the dogs too closely and I forgot to check the gate. I’ll do it later. I just…damn, she was something. I think she was trying to figure out if I might be you. She kept looking at me. She actually smiled at me a couple of times.”

“And what did you do?” Grenn managed fairly well, he thought. They’d been roommates for a couple of years and it wasn’t like Jon had never seen him bring a woman home for the night but he could be a little shy sometimes about getting to the talking point with them.

“Duh, I smiled back. Hopefully, I didn’t pant at her like Ghost might though.”

“But you didn’t talk to her?” he asked when he’d stopped chuckling at that.

“Jon…you know I’m shit at talking up beautiful girls. That’s more your department.”

“And you give me hell for it. Also, it’s not like it’s easy for me. It’s just part of my job.”

“You make it look easy and I envy you for it. Anyway, it was freezing cold and she called the dogs to her less than five minutes after we got there. Ghost was ready to leave as soon as they left.”

“Maybe I’ll stop by the dog park on my way and see if she’s there again,” he smirked, knowing it’d rile Grenn up a bit. _He could use some riling._

“Hey, man! Not cool! Dibs on the pretty red head!”

“Dibs? How old are we? And red head, you say?” Bran’s hair was a dark auburn. It wasn’t surprising his sister’s would be. Still, it grabbed his attention.

“Yeah, show stopping really. But, I saw her first!”

“Then, I’ll put in a good word for you if I speak with her,” Jon told him before heading out the door. For now, he had to get to work.

* * *

Sansa was cradling the phone in her hands like it was made of glass. _“Hold for Olenna Tyrell, please,”_ the male voice on the other end had told her when she’d answered.

The seconds ticked by and she heard Bran coming in from his morning class, obviously deciding to skip studying at the library today. The dogs were barking out their greetings.

She wanted to tell him about seeing Ghost and his owner at the dog park. He was tall and on the burly side which wasn’t how she’d pictured him in her mind but what did she know? Had Bran ever even said the man’s name? She didn’t think so.

Her reservations about the grown man who’d apparently befriended her little brother though had eased a good deal as she’d studied him with his shy smile and flushed cheeks. He seemed nice enough and Bran had said he had a friend, a contractor, who was looking into making some improvements to the dog park to assist Bran and other dog lovers like him.

Regardless, though he’d never come over and spoke, it had to be him. The dog had to have been Ghost who she’d heard so much about after all. An albino husky and he’d immediately started frolicking with their two. She wished she could’ve stayed longer but it was so cold and she had a shoot scheduled, something Cersei had lined up with Petyr Baelish. _Yuck…_

She’d returned home, got the dogs settled and taken her shower. She’d been brushing out her hair and getting dressed when her phone had rang. And since she’d answered it, she’d been 100% focused on that object in her hands.

“Good morning, Sansa. This is Olenna Tyrell calling. I’m sorry to keep you waiting but I have some exciting news for you.”

_Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. Oh, shit! Don’t drop the phone!_

“Obviously, my people will be contacting Cersei but I wanted to let you know personally since I understand what an occasion this can be for a young model.”

_OH. MY. GOD!_

“But, for form’s sake, I suppose you’ll have to pretend that you didn’t know when Cersei calls you. You can do a little acting, can’t you, darling?”

“Yes, Mrs. Tyrell, I will. And, thank you so much for calling and letting me know!” Each word had rushed out of her mouth faster than the last and she’d been nearly shouting towards the end of the sentence. “ _Ahem_ …thank you, ma’am. I hope I won’t disappoint your vision for the Weirwood edition and…”

“Oh, dear me, child,” the older woman chuckled. “You are sweet but I promise you’ll do fine. Just do whatever Jon tells you. He knows what I want.”

“Jon?” There might’ve been a slight shift in her tone. Plus, that ‘do whatever Jon tells you’ left her reeling in an unexpected and entirely inappropriate way.

“Yes, Jon’s shooting the cover. He’s been singing your praises for quite a while to me and the pictures from your shoot with him were wonderful. Xaro cried when he saw them. Well, he’d cry anyway but…” Olenna paused before asking, “Is it alright that Jon will be shooting you again, darling?”

Sansa started nodding rapidly…like an idiot. _She can’t see you nodding!_ “Of course, Mrs. Tyrell! He’s wonderful and I’ve enjoyed working with him both times.”

_I want to work with him again. I’d like to work under him, too._

She flushed at the thought and then felt depressed all over again recalling last week.

_“Don’t worry and I love you.”_

It had taken her several minutes after he’d left to realize she’d said that to Bran on the phone in front of him. She’d immediately started to obsess over it when she had and she hadn’t stopped obsessing. He might have misunderstood that ‘I love you’ just as Cersei’s words had left her doubting his intentions the day they’d met.

 _We need to have a real conversation._ _Preferably one where I'm dry, completely dressed and with no Cersei or Joffrey nearby._

Meanwhile, she needed to finish _this_ conversation.

“So, we’re thinking the shoot will be Friday if that works for you but Renly will contact Cersei with the details.”

“Anything you say, Mrs. Tyrell. I’ll be ready.”

“Alright, darling. Speak later.”

The phone had barely clicked off before Sansa let out an enormous squeal of delight. “BRAN! BRAN!!”

She set down her phone to share her news. Cersei would probably be calling very soon but she wanted to share this moment with her brother and she really appreciated Olenna calling to give her the heads-up.

“Holy shit…” Bran said once she’d spilled the beans. “I’m...my sister’s a cover girl!”

“I am, aren’t I?!” Maybe the whole industry had more than its share of ridiculousness but right now, she felt like she could walk on air.

“You’re going to be a supermodel!”

“Am not! I mean…do you think I could be?”

He was laughing and nodding. “Fuck, yes, you could be a supermodel, Sansa! Why not? You’re beautiful and they all see it! I’m so happy and proud of you!”

“Thank you, Bran. I wish…”

 _Don’t say it!_ that protective little voice inside her head shouted.

“I wish they were here with us,” she whispered.

She’d said it. She couldn’t help saying it.

Of course, saying it had its consequences. She felt her face crumpling up and then Bran’s was. She was sobbing the next instant and tears were welling up in Bran's eyes. She _hated_ making him cry even more than she hated crying.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bring us down!”

But Bran brushed away her tears and shook his head, his tears wetting his cheeks now. “Don’t say sorry, Sansa. We’re not supposed to just forget them, are we?”

“No. It’s okay to miss them. It’s okay to cry.” How many times had she told him that when he’d been holding it in too long? How many times had she told herself that?

She was kneeling beside his chair with their hands clasped together when the dogs came over to offer their love, their tireless, never-ending, never judging love that meant the world to the orphaned children of Ned and Catelyn Stark.

"We're alright, sweeties," she managed to choke out, hugging first Lady then Summer. "We're going to be alright." 

“Are you happy for Sansa, babies?” Bran asked in that voice he only used with them. “She’s going to be a runway star and buy us an enormous house in the country somewhere so you can run free as much as you like.” That was followed by a scowl. “But if we do that, you’d miss Ghost, wouldn’t you?”

The shift away from the heaviness was appreciated and it sparked her memory, too. “Oh, that reminds me. I saw him today.”

“Ghost?”

“Uh huh, at the dog park this morning. Must’ve been him. Never seen another albino husky there, have you?”

“Nope. So, you met Jon?”

“Jon?”

“Yeah, his owner and my friend.”

“His name is Jon?” she asked even though it was obvious by this point that it must be.

Bran was looking at her funny as she kept puzzling over the coincidence of two men named Jon. Clearly, it _was_ just a coincidence. Lots of men were named Jon. Burly guy with the shy smile could easily be a Jon. It was a nice name. It was becoming one of her favorite names maybe.

_‘Do whatever Jon tells you.’_

_Oh, God._

So apparently, just the name sent a shiver of longing racing all through her and brought heat to her cheeks at this point. She really had it bad, huh?

“What did you think of Jon? Did you _like_ him?” Bran said in _that_ tone, that ‘I’m still your little brother who can occasionally torment you’ tone.

“Don’t be silly. It’s just that I, uh…work with someone named Jon. He’s a photographer for _Highgarden_ and he helped land me the cover.”

“Does he have a beard?” Bran asked keenly, the gears already turning.

“He does but he definitely wasn’t the same bearded man from the park with Ghost today.”

"Oh, yeah. I mean, I guess you'd know if it was the same guy." Suddenly, Bran seemed quite disappointed. Was it possible that her little brother (who occasionally liked tormenting her) had also been contemplating fixing her up with his friend Jon from the dog park?

If so, it was very sweet of him but...

_Sorry Bran and burly Jon with the shy smile but I’ve already got a Jon in my life who I’m crushing on pretty hard._

“Did you at least talk to Jon at the park?”

“No, we never spoke. I think we were both a little hesitant to chat up a stranger.”

“He spoke to me the first day.”

“And I’m glad of that,” she shrugged. “He sounds like a very sweet guy.”

Bran was getting that tenacious look in his eye. “Of course, beautiful girls make some guys nervous but I wouldn’t think he’d be that shy,” he muttered before trailing off and looking thoughtful.

Deciding to curtail Bran’s potential matchmaking efforts for the time being, she glanced at the time and cut in. She’d need to leave soon for her shoot which she was now dreading even more. “I’m so glad you were here this morning for me to tell you my news in person but what brought you home early?”

“Well, I aced my physics exam from yesterday so I figured I’d treat myself to an afternoon off. Jojen gave me his Netflix password so I was going to spend the day binging some shows but now, I think we should celebrate tonight, too.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, I’m buying you dinner.”

“Bran…I’ve not been paid a dime for the cover yet and we’ve got the phone bill and the…”

“We can afford pizza tonight, Sansa. How often does my sister get on the cover of a magazine for the first time? It's my treat.”

“Your treat, huh?” she asked ruffling his hair. “And how am I supposed to eat pizza when I’ve got a shoot in two days for that cover?”

“You still have to eat and we’ll order thin crust with veggies…for you anyway. Come on, Sansa.”

“Alright, thin crust and veggies sounds good.” Her phone started ringing and she hopped up to go take it in her bedroom. “That’s probably Cersei calling with the news.”

As she glanced down at the number, she realized it wasn't Cersei. Something told her to answer anyway.

“Hello, Sansa. This is Jon Targaryen.”

She'd known that the instant he'd said 'hello.' The deep rumble of his voice was immediately sending those same shivers of desire all over her body just like thinking about his name had done to her earlier. Her lips parted but no sound came out.

“I hope you don’t mind me calling,” he said, tentatively as the silence stretched on.

“Hi, Jon!” she said at last, finding her voice again. “I don’t mind you calling at all.”

“So, I wanted to congratulate you since I overheard Olenna telling Renly she was going to call.”

“Thank you. I know you’re a big part of why this is happening and I can’t thank you enough.”

“Nah, you’re the beauty they want to put on the cover of the magazine. I just took your picture.”

She started twirling her finger through her hair and felt like a girl again getting called by the boy she liked. _Well, I do like him_. Still, she could talk and also be honest. “You shouldn’t minimize your role in that. Shae told me last week you were pushing to get me the cover.”

“She did, did she?”

“Yeah but don’t be mad at her. It meant a lot to me to know you thought I was good enough for the cover and that you'd mentioned me to Mrs. Tyrell.”

“I’m not mad at Shae. I just thought…you’re stunning and you’ve got so much natural poise. You’ve got a face that belongs on the cover of magazines, Sansa. I just wanted Olenna and everybody else to realize it.”

Had men complimented her about her looks before?

Yes, many times.

Did Jon's words please her all the way down to her toes in a way no one else's sweet words ever had?

Yes, they did.

“Thank you and I appreciate all your help. I’m…I’m glad we’ll be working together again.”

“Me, too.” 

She could almost picture his contented smile just by the way he'd said that. It made her smile anew.

But then the line went so quiet that for a second she thought she’d lost the connection. She was back to cradling that damn phone in her hands like a baby. “Are you still-”

He spoke at the same moment and she nearly jumped. “So, uh…Sansa…” The tentativeness had increased tenfold and immediately, instinct had her pulse kicking up.

“Yes, Jon?”

“I was wondering if you’d be, uh…that is if you're not...”

Another pregnant pause.

“Yes?”

“Would you want to go out with me for coffee…or dinner…or…” He started chuckling. “Well, anything you’d like really. Would you like to go out with me sometime, Sansa? Assuming you're not involved with someone, that is.”

She breathed a sigh of relieved joy. He’d not given up on her after one refusal (an unwilling one but he didn’t know that) and she was very pleased by it. Considering what her words might’ve prompted him to think, she was so happy to know it.

“Yes, Jon. I’d be happy to go out with you." She felt a squeal bubbling in her chest. He'd not only asked her out. He'd made it plain that this was not just a friend thing by checking her relationship status. _Could this day be any better?!_ "And no, there's no one like that for me." She heard Bran rooting around in the kitchen and frowned. She wanted to ensure they avoided any future misunderstandings. “But I do have plans with my brother tonight to celebrate my big news.”

“Oh, you’ve got a brother? Yeah, that’s…that's great.” He sounded as relieved as she had a minute ago and he started chuckling again. “It’s great to have family to celebrate with.”

 _Oof_. Her heart ached at his mention of family but he wouldn’t know why. _He will though. I’m going to tell him about them and I’m going to learn more about him, too._

“Any other night would be fine or I’m free this afternoon if you wanted to grab coffee.” Was that too much? Was she making herself _too_ available? It'd been so long since she'd really gone out with someone she actually wanted to date. She couldn't keep all the little rules straight anymore. Honestly, she didn't want to play any silly games so maybe that was just as well. "I've got a shoot to head to now that Cersei lined up with Petyr Baelish but I'll be free..."

“Baelish?” She didn’t think she was imagining the way he sneered that name.

“Yeah, it’s something for that Faceless line Cersei put me in when I started out with her. It's...well, it's a job.”

Quirky clothes that were supposed to be haute couture but really just looked ridiculous in Sansa's opinion. They always wanted the models in odd face paint for their shoots with over-the-top hairdos. It was nothing that would advance her career all that much she’d come to discover but it was a paycheck. But, Baelish…ugh. She wouldn’t burden Jon with her misgivings there.

“Anyway, it should wrap up fairly early.” _I hope._

“Okay then. We could do coffee this afternoon...and maybe dinner tomorrow night?” She suppressed a delighted giggle, Baelish and Cersei forgotten for them moment. Obviously, Jon wasn't too worried about her being _too_ available or any silly rules either. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound pushy.”

“No, I’d love coffee today and then dinner tomorrow. And then we’ll see each other for work on Friday.”

“Yeah, work on Friday. Would you want to call me on this number when you finish shooting then? I could meet you somewhere nearby if you like.”

“Sounds good. I’ll call when we’re done.”

“Great.” He sounded like he was about to say goodbye when he paused again, almost making her wonder if the phone had really disconnected this time. “Hey, Sansa…I just want you know that no matter what, you deserve this and I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Jon. I appreciate it and I'm really glad you called. Goodbye.”

"Bye."

They both hung up then and she was biting her knuckle to keep from squealing out loud again. She’d shared her career news with Bran but this news could keep for a little bit. Maybe she’d bring Jon home to meet him before long but for now, she’d see how their back-to-back dates went.

She told Bran and the dogs goodbye and headed to her shoot. She found it odd that Cersei hadn’t called yet with the news about _Highgarden_ but she was so ecstatic over that and Jon calling that she didn’t particularly care either.

When she pulled into the parking lot where the shoot was to take place though, Cersei’s luxury sedan was sitting there, almost like she was lying in wait for her.

A chill of apprehension passed over her as Petyr Baelish opened the studio door for her with a smirk.

* * *

“Just so you know, you’re both spoiled rotten,” Bran groused as he wheeled his way along the cracked sidewalk, feeling every bump but telling himself it didn’t matter. It didn’t really. This was his reality and he’d come to accept it…for the most part. “At least, it’s slightly warmer than this morning but you know Ghost probably won’t be there, right?”

Both dogs whimpered. They never ceased to amaze him how much they seemed to understand.

"Aw, don't mind me. I'm just bitching because I was enjoying being lazy."

He'd been quite relaxed in bed watching shows on his laptop and grazing on some of the spicy hummus Sansa had bought but the dogs had been begging to go out and he could hardly say no to them. He didn't like feeling pent up either. So, he'd put his shoes and coat back on after getting back in his chair and grabbed his keys and their leads. 

They were passing Hot Pie's Pizzeria when the door opened, giving him a delicious blast of the fragrant smells within. He was already salivating thinking about dinner but that would be later. _Deep dish with peppers and pepperoni for me and veggie on thin crust for Sansa._

Summer wagged his tail and wanted to head in. 

"Not yet, boy, but I promise I'll get sausage on mine to share with you both." Couldn't deny the dogs a taste, right? 

Deciding he was done with grousing about being out and about, Bran smiled up at the wintry sky where the sun was peaking through. Today was a good day. He’d aced his test but more importantly, Sansa had had a big break, one that would mean a lot for her.

Obviously, he knew it’d mean a lot for him too although he didn’t want her to feel like she had to do anything special for him. He despised feeling like a burden to her though he knew she’d never call him that. And he rationalized to himself that if he ever became a world-renowned astronomer, he’d happily take care of Sansa as much as she’d allow for the rest of his life. They had each other and, no matter who else came into their lives over the years, they’d always be important to each other, forever in each other’s corner. 

After his accident, she'd been always by his side with their mother working to cheer him up and also working with him as he became accustomed to all the changes life had thrown his way. And after their deaths...he couldn't even begin to express how grateful he was for his sister and everything she'd done to keep them afloat and together. 

He’d really wanted to fix her up with Jon though. He was a good guy and there was just something about him that made Bran think the two of them would get on well. Bran wasn't blind either and figured his sister would find Jon attractive. 

And yes, there was part of him that liked the idea of there being someone who might want to take care of a her for a change, treat her the way a guy should treat his girl. Sansa deserved that. 

He’d be an awesome boyfriend for Sansa…probably.

_Well, he’d better be._

And if Jon from work turned out to be a douche and Sansa would ever give Ghost’s dad a chance...

 _What the hell do you know about it anyway?_ he asked himself, his cheeks growing hot at the realization that he didn’t really know all that much.

Determined not to worry anymore about his sister’s love life today (because seriously, that was just weird), he turned the corner to where the dog park was and, much to his surprise, found Ghost was there along with a man he’d never met, a tall and muscular man, thick-necked with a beard and a measuring tape.

“Oh, fuck me,” he murmured to himself before he starting chuckling. 

“Hey!” the man called as soon as he set eyes on him. “Any chance your name’s Bran, kid?”

“Very good chance,” he answered with a grin, rolling closer. “Are you Jon’s friend, the contractor?”

“Yeah, I’m Grenn. I was measuring this gate to see about changing it out." He glanced at Lady and Summer. "I think I saw your sister this morning with them.”

“Uh huh. What’s Ghost doing here now?” Bran asked as the three dogs happily converged for a sniff fest.

“Oh, I figured since I was coming back down here to measure, I’d bring him back. I wasn’t here that long this morning.”

“Jon out of town or something?”

“No but he’s my roommate so occasionally I’ll take on doggy duty when he’s working.”

“Working...right.” He started chuckling to himself again and Grenn was looking at him questioningly. Maybe he wasn't Fortune's son. Considering a careless and nameless driver had left him paralyzed at thirteen, he'd never claim that. But he was Intuition's favorite child somedays. “I'm very pleased to meet you, Grenn, and I really appreciate what you and Jon are doing trying to improve the dog park for me but I just have one question."

"What's that, kid?"

"What does Jon do for a living?”

* * *

She’d texted rather than called which was fine though he’d been looking forward to hearing her voice. All the same, the ping and seeing her name flash on the notification screen of his phone where he’d entered her into his contacts after begging Olenna for her number this morning gave him the most pleasant jolt. 

Sansa- _I’m done here._

He’d texted back with a place where they might meet and she’d agreed. 

Like some schoolboy, that giddy sense of excitement had been building within him since then, since this morning actually when he’d called her after allowing some time for Olenna and Cersei to dispense with business first. He couldn’t wait to see her. 

He was looking forward to working with her again on Friday, too. She’d be wearing Varys and the man himself would be there Loras had hinted. That could be a very good thing for Sansa. If Varys liked her, saw even half the potential that Jon saw in her, maybe he’d want her to model his clothes exclusively. An exclusive contract with a label like his after getting on the cover of _Highgarden_ would see a young model pretty well set on a course towards the very highest level of success. 

_And what might that mean for you when she achieves all that?_ He shoved his ignoble fear away. _It’ll mean good things for Sansa and, whatever happens between us, I’ll always want to see her do well._

He meant it. She’d agreed to coffee today and dinner tomorrow. She’d sounded very happy about it, too. _And she has a brother!_ He’d learned something about her personal life at least. He wondered if that might’ve been who had called last week and decided it didn’t matter ultimately since she apparently wasn’t romantically involved with anyone anyway…including Joffrey. 

Curious after their conversation this morning, he’d found Shae and had a little heart to heart with her. He’d found out what Sansa had told her and Ros about Joffrey and Cersei last week. He’d also found out what they’d told her about him. He didn’t mind. He knew Shae had his best interests at heart and it seemed like she had Sansa’s interests there, too. 

But when he arrived at the coffeeshop, he was immediately on guard again. Sansa was already there, hovering right inside the door and looking like she might bolt at any second. Had she changed her mind about meeting him?

Her hair was done up in some bizarre style but then he recalled what those bozos with Faceless liked. The weird, heavy makeup they had their models wear wasn’t even washed off. He was a little surprised to be honest. Sansa always seemed so put together when he’d seen her prior to and after shoots and at the runway show. 

She’d been fresh-faced without makeup after the Xaro shoot that night and he’d had the impression that she preferred it that way. He’d liked it. She didn’t need a single bit of makeup as far as he was concerned and certainly not the war paint she was wearing now. Had she left in a hurry? He kind of liked thinking she’d been in a hurry to see him but there was something off. When he got closer, he saw that her eyes were red rimmed. Something was definitely off. 

“Sansa? Are you alright?”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Her chin started quivering and her eyes filled with tears.

He thought of Baelish and the gross things he’d heard in the past about the guy. “Has someone hurt you?” he asked quietly, his mind going places it didn’t want to and his desire to squash that sleaze like a bug filling him with an unfathomable wrath. 

She shook her head but then nodded. 

“Did he put his hands on you?” he growled as softly as he could manage while he contemplated murder for the first time in his life.

She shook her head again, looking startled. “No one touched me. She…she said I couldn’t do it.” 

“Who said you couldn’t do what, love?” 

Love? Where had that come from? _Not the point right now, Jon._

“Cersei.”

“What happened?”

“She was at the shoot, watching things like she often does. She never mentioned the _Highgarden_ cover. I had to bring it up. She seemed angry with me and I didn’t understand it. She said we’d talk afterwards and…things turned nasty.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said…she said there was no way I was getting that cover. She said I was too new and not ready. She said she’d just made me exclusive to Faceless anyway. I don’t…I don’t know how to tell Mrs. Tyrell that I can’t...” She shot him the most heart wrenching look and it tore him up even as his earlier rage found a new target. “She said I was an ungrateful…she said the most horrible things to me,” she finished in a whisper. 

She was crying softly and people were starting to stare. He took her hand and led her to a free corner booth where she hopefully wouldn’t be so exposed to the staring of strangers. He slid in next to her and grabbed a few napkins out of the dispenser. She wiped her eyes and frowned at the smears of makeup on the napkin when she pulled it away. She plucked out more napkins and meticulously began wiping at her entire face.

“Sansa, I'm sorry she was nasty to you but...you know she can’t do that, right?”

“She said I signed a contract and I would accept the jobs she approved for me. She said I had no choice.”

“I’ve never heard of a contract quite that binding for a model. And she can’t make you exclusive to a label on her own. You’d have to sign a separate contract for that.”

His words seemed to offer no comfort. She only cried harder. “I didn’t know…I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re new and your agent is treating you abominably. How long’s your contract with Cersei?”

“Five years.”

“Five years?!” 

He bit his tongue before he said more, not wishing to distress her further. Yeah, she was new to this and young. He shouldn’t be surprised with someone like Cersei. Most modeling agency contracts lasted one to three years. They did have an automatic re-up in many cases to where a model would have to file some paperwork if she wanted out of her contract when it ended but they weren’t indentured servants or anything. 

_And there are ways out of most contracts. Cersei’s not always as clever as she thinks she is._ Olenna had told him that more than once. He hoped she was right. 

“Did she say anything else about the cover job or…what did she say to you? What were the horrible things?”

Sansa sniffled, finally finished removing as much as the garish make-up as she could. She looked so damn young and he hated this industry so much some days. “She mentioned that Myrcella had never been on the cover of _Highgarden_.”

“So what? Lots of beautiful girls never get the cover.”

“She said Joffrey had a premier he wanted to go to tomorrow night and I told her I wasn’t going to go with him, that I wasn’t going to go anywhere with him anymore…that I…” She raised her eyes to his and gave him a watery smile. “I said I liked someone else and didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

“Oh.” He liked hearing that and what it might imply but now wasn’t the time to explore it. She needed a friend more than anything right now. “Is that when things turned nasty?”

“Yes. She said I’d…” Her eyes quickly found her lap. “She knew that you’d been talking me up somehow. She suggested that…that I must’ve slept with you to get the cover.”

_That fucking bitch._

He took a fresh napkin out and wiped away the last of her earlier tears. “I’m sorry she said such a thing to you. Sansa, we’ll figure this out, okay? I promise. It may sound really bleak to you right now but Olenna’s got some great people in legal and I know she'd fight for you.”

"Why? I'm nobody to her."

"Well...I'll admit she's always itching to fight Cersei so her motivation might not be entirely altruistic but I know she'll fight for you and so will I for what it's worth."

“But Jon, she said she could sue me for breach of contract if I fought her and…I’ve got more than me to think about.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, my little brother. Our parents are gone and…it’s just me and him. He was so happy when I told him earlier. I thought I could really take care of him now and...”

She was soon crying again and he could nearly cry with her if he wasn’t so infuriated on her behalf. How could anyone use her like this? 

A server came up offering to take their order but Jon waved her away, holding Sansa close while she cried. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket more than once, multiple times actually. If Olenna had been told no by Cersei at his point, she’d be mad as a hornet and likely ready to rage about it to everyone whose number she had in her contacts. 

He ignored his phone to keep holding Sansa, relishing the way she felt so natural in his arms while drawing out little bits and pieces from her about what had happened to her parents and how she’d wound up with Cersei as her agent. 

When she was dry at last, he ordered her a glass of water along with a cup of tea she wanted and a coffee for himself. He glanced down at his phone at last, pleasantly surprised to see a message from Bran along with several from Olenna, Shae and Loras. 

Bran- _Wondering if you’d be interested in pizza tonight. Hot Pie’s is good and has a heated back patio area that's pet friendly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I shit at sticking to an outline (when I bother with them)? 
> 
> Yes. 
> 
> Will you guys forgive me for stretching this two more chapters? 
> 
> Please, say yes! 🙏


	4. Chapter 4

The whole day was dreamlike Sansa decided. From wish-fulfillment fantasy to a horrible nightmare until it altered into a rampant anxiety-filled vision that left her hopeful and panicked by turns, it was nearly too much to take in.

All the excitement about the magazine cover. The joy of sharing that with Bran. The unimaginable relief at the thoughts that _maybe_ they wouldn’t have to struggle so much before long.

The longing and the flutters when she’d spoke with Jon over the phone earlier. His warmth and assurances after her meeting with Cersei.

Cersei…her stomach roiled recalling it all.

She hoped Bran wouldn’t be too disappointed if she didn’t manage to eat much. They could take the leftovers home. No need to waste good pizza.

All through the wretched photoshoot with Petyr Baelish staring at her like a predator eyeing a side of beef she’d been growing increasingly anxious about the looks Cersei had been giving her. Then, the harsh and hateful words, the threats and accusations.

_“You think you get to decide these things, do you? You think you know how to survive in this business without someone guiding you? That the world’s some craft service table all set up with tasty things for you to stroll along, picking and choosing whatever strikes your fancy?”_

Cersei had asked that so mockingly, so clearly amused at the audacity of this girl suggesting she knew what was best for her.

 _Pick and choose?_ It’d been a long time since Sansa’s life had felt like there’d been any picking and choosing allowed. _“No, I don’t think...”_

_“Look at Baelish over there. He was practically drooling over you in spite of how ridiculous you look in that clown make-up. You think it means anything with them? Men like that will beat down your door and then cast you aside like trash. He’s nothing, granted and you’re not remotely attracted to him, are you? You think you’re too good for the likes of Petyr Baelish, I know, but he’s had plenty of pretty girls like you on his personal casting couch over the years, girls who wanted in front of his lens badly enough to offer up the one thing that was theirs to freely give away. It’s only my presence that prevents him from trying that with you.”_

She’d shuddered with distaste at the mere thought.

_“But you foolishly believe Jon Targaryen’s not just a younger, more appealing version of him?”_

_“What? Jon’s nothing like…”_

_“What’d you do to catch his eyes, I wonder? You’re pretty but nothing spectacular. Freckles, red hair and too fond of sweets, you’re no Alayaya or Arianne Martell, little dove. They’re supermodels and you’d still be hocking dishwashers if it wasn’t for me. Incidentally, Arianne was his last lover…after his fling with Alayaya, I believe. Did you know that?”_

_“I don’t care who he’s slept with in the past.”_

She hadn’t…but maybe she had a little. The words has been like poison to her self-esteem. _You’re poison,_ she’d thought of Cersei while wishing she wasn’t immediately comparing herself to the other women.

_“And, we’re not…he hasn’t…”_

_“Not yet maybe but I’m sure he’d have you on your back quick enough if he could,”_ Cersei had smirked. _“Are you just another little slut like those girls on Petyr’s couch, Sansa? You seem like such a innocent little thing but maybe that's an act. Maybe Jon likes that about you. His mother was the same.”_

She’d felt sick and wanted to get away. Cersei had been blocking her exit. She’d reminded Sansa of a big cat pacing, playing with its next meal as it prepared to pounce.

 _“You’re wrong about him!”_ she’d cried, frustrated enough to lash out and damn the consequences. _“You hate him because of his mother! You’re still angry over the past and jealous of her for being preferred by both the man you wanted and by the man you married.”_ Cersei’s eyes had narrowed. She’d felt nearly dizzy with a mixture of fear and triumph for saying it to her face. _“And, you’re wrong about me. You don’t own me. I don’t have to do whatever you say and they want me for that cover. We’re shooting on...”_

Quicker than Sansa would’ve believed possible, Cersei had reached out, roughly gripping her chin. _“I’m your agent and you signed a contract. You’re nothing without me. You’ll smile your pretty smile for the cameras when I tell you to. You’ll pose in whatever label I tell you to pose in. Whether it’s a burqa or a thong, you’ll wear it. And if you ever get it in that simple little head of yours that you don’t want to do this anymore, my lawyers will eat you for breakfast. How are you supposed to support that brother of yours then?”_

That had hit the mark. The thoughts of Bran and being sued for what little they had, she’d not known what to say.

She didn’t want to be exclusive to Faceless. She didn’t want to work for Cersei anymore. She’d rather find some entry-level job in a shop or office if that was what modeling was going to be. Or two regular jobs if that would be what it took to keep them warm, dry and fed.

Cersei had let her go after that and Sansa had fled the studio, barely conscious of texting Jon for them to meet beyond it giving her a destination. She’d been on autopilot until he’d arrived and half tempted to get back in her car and go home so she could bury herself in her comforter and forget this day ever happened. But she hadn’t and he’d been there before she’d seriously started to consider leaving.

His gentle words and touch, his voice, all of it had been such a comfort and her little concerns over ex-lovers receded as they grappled with the legal questions of Cersei and the contract and what to do from here.

_“I think you should definitely do the shoot on Friday, Sansa. There’s no way she can claim you’re exclusive to Faceless and we’ll present her with a fait accompli and possibly have our own litigation to...”_

_“Jon, I don’t have a lawyer. I barely have anything at all except a brother and two dogs to take care of. I can’t afford…”_

_“Olenna has more lawyers than you can shake a stick at. I know you’re scared and I get that but I promise we’ll fight for you. Seems to me Cersei’s hoping to intimidate you, thinking you’ll roll over like a whipped dog for her instead of fighting like a wolf.”_

_“Like a wolf,”_ she’d repeated, feeling strangely emboldened by the image.

He’d given her a measure of hope when she'd felt hopeless. He’d even had her laughing by the end of their date, playing her a snippet of one of Olenna’s voice mails she’d left him while they’d been there.

_“How dare she tell me I can’t have Sansa?! Sansa’s who I want for our cover! Our cover, Jon! She’s perfect for the Weirwood edition! Didn’t I tell you that? Or did you tell me…no matter. Just who does this woman thinks he is to tell me no, Jon? By the time I’m done with her she’ll be lucky to represent foot fungus in commercials for athlete’s foot creams! Wherever you are, you’d better call me back ASAP! I’ve been annoyed enough for one day and you not answering is…”_

They’d made their plans for dinner tomorrow night when he’d walked her to her car. She smiled just remembering it. She was still smiling as she headed towards Hot Pie’s with Bran and the dogs for pizza and ‘a surprise.’

“What’s that smile about?” Bran asked from beside her.

He’d been like the cat who’d caught the canary this evening, grinning to himself and shooting her pleased looks. She couldn’t puzzle it out but in her anxiety, she’d not bothered to ask. She’d been afraid to tell him about Cersei. She hated to bring him down when he was so happy.

“Just thinking.”

“About Jon from work?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. Bran had a knack for just knowing things. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Good,” he said, enigmatically. Had he given up on fixing her up with Sweet Burly Jon then?

They turned the corner and were met with the warm glow of Hot Pie’s window and the red and white checkered tablecloths within. They headed around the side to the covered, heated patio area where four-legged guests were welcome.

Lady and Summer had already been wagging their tails but a bark met their ears and suddenly they were pulling on their leads with all their might.

“What’s gotten into you two?” Sansa chided though she was soon smiling when the albino husky came racing over from the far side of the patio. Maybe Bran hadn't given up on fixing her up yet. 

“Ghost!” a man’s voice called somewhat irritably, clearly chiding his own dog.

She grinned and looked up expecting Sweet Burly Jon from this morning.

He was there but he wasn’t who had spoken.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis and her mouth was surely hanging open when his dark grey eyes met hers.

* * *

He’d been looking at Bran as he’d grasped Ghost’s lead again. "I know you're excited to see them, Ghost, but control yourself, buddy."

“Hope you’ve not been waiting too long for us,” Bran said.

“No, I was early and my roommate asked to join us because…” His words trailed off as he looked from Bran in his chair to the woman next to him. “…because he…loves pizza and...” He couldn’t seem to stop shaking his head and blinking as his brain was rapidly connecting the dots. “I’m… _shit_.”

Her blue eyes reflected his own surprise but she recovered from the surprise more quickly. Bran sat there grinning smugly at them both. She put a gloved hand over her mouth but it didn’t silence her delighted giggles, the ones that were making his heart stutter-step.

“Shall I introduce you?” Bran asked, all innocence, the cocky little shit.

Jon started chuckling and stepped closer to Sansa, bringing himself face to face with the woman he’d held in his arms not so long ago, the woman he was rapidly losing his stutter-stepping heart to. The dogs were winding around their legs, happily oblivious to the little reunion going on between these two humans who’d last seen each other less than two hours ago.

“I’m…”

“You’re…”

Neither could get out the words right away.

Grenn joined their little circle but Jon couldn’t tear his eyes from her. “Yeah, I love pizza which you know but I came for the entertainment tonight.” His friend gave him a chug on the shoulder that was none-too-gentle. “I guess I’ll allow that you did _technically_ see her first…you fucker.”

The punch on the shoulder seemed to loosen his tongue at last. “You’re Bran’s sister who had to work and would be getting wet that rainy Saturday I met him at the dog park."

"It was a rather miserable day...except one part."

"You're Bran’s sister who’s his guardian, who spent hours on hold with the power company last Wednesday night when they tried to claim you’d not paid the bill and cut the power off.”

"I had to go. They wouldn't listen to Bran since everything's in my name."

His heart was swelling up with joy at the realization that Sansa, the beautiful young model, was also the amazing sister who fussed over Bran and took care of him, the one Bran obviously adored. _I adore her, too._

Sansa had her own things to say. “This is Ghost, the albino husky who’s befriended our dogs, and you’re his owner, the sweet man who befriended my little brother. You’re the man who wants to make improvements to the dog park to make it more accessible for him. You’ve got a friend who’s a contractor.”

“Hey, that’s me! I’m Grenn,” his roommate said, offering his hand.

“Hello, Grenn,” Sansa laughed, shaking it. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

She’d made eye contact long enough to exchange the pleasantries but then she was back to staring at him. He’d never stopped staring at her.

“Well, isn’t it a small world? Don’t you think it’s a small world, Grenn?”

“Sure is, kid,” Grenn cleared his throat as Jon went on staring at Sansa. “But do you think you two can hold off on kissing long enough for us to take a seat and order? I’m starving.”

He shot his friend a warning look as Sansa blushed, that lovely peachy pink color spreading across her cheeks and down her throat just like at the Xaro shoot last week.

"Dude, that's my sister." 

“Yeah, let’s order,” Jon said to break the tension. Despite the fact that he’d very much like to kiss her before he took another step or drew another breath, he wasn’t kissing Sansa for the first time in front of her brother or his roommate.

On unsteady legs, he led them to the table he and Grenn had claimed. He hurriedly pulled one chair away from the table to make room for Bran's chair and then pulled the chair next to his spot out for Sansa.

“Thanks, Jon,” she murmured as their eyes met again.

As the dogs got themselves settled on the floor, Grenn took the seat at his right and opened the menu, the drink menu. Jon already knew what he’d want on his pie. Grenn only branched out when it came to what he washed it down with at Hot Pie’s.

“I’m thinking a stout tonight. It’s been a hell of a Wednesday, hasn’t it?”

Jon nodded towards his roommate before laying his hand palm up on the table next to Sansa’s, giving her a smile and hoping.

“It sure was,” she agreed with Grenn as she slipped her hand into his and their fingers twined together.

* * *

It might’ve been a hell of a Wednesday but Thursday dawned sunny and a little warmer than typical for winter. Sansa would take it as a good sign. She also thought she’d take Jon’s advice and avoid any contact with Cersei today. Hopefully, she wouldn’t call. 

Jon had briefly brought up Cersei over pizza last night. Their legs had already been touching under the table. Ever since they’d ordered and his knee had bumped into hers, they’d stayed that way. It had felt like an electric current passing between them, the innocuous contact under the table that hadn’t felt innocuous at all. 

But when he’d brought up her run-in with Cersei in a round-about way, she’d pressed her leg firmly against his. Their eyes had met, he’d quickly changed topics at her pleading look. 

Jon was fast on the uptake. He wasn't the only one who was. Grenn hadn’t noticed anything but Bran didn’t miss much. He’d waited until breakfast to bring it up.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” 

His wounded tone left her racked with guilt after she’d come clean about all of it. “I was going to. I just didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want to make you sad after you were so happy for me yesterday.”

“Sansa, I’m not five.”

“I know that.”

“Then, don’t be afraid to tell me things, even bad things.”

“I’m sorry. You’re my little brother and…”

“And you’re my sister. You think our ages matter to me? You think I don’t want to protect you and take care of you?”

“I know you do. Don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you. My anger is aimed at Cersei. I hope Jon’s right about Mrs. Tyrell being able to help you. Either way, you’re not staying with her.”

“But what if…”

“Sansa, if she wants to sic a pack of lawyers on us as we currently stand, good luck to her. You can't get blood from a turnip. We don't have much of anything and I'll be eighteen before long. No one's splitting us up and she'll only look like the worst sort of harpy coming after her young model and her crippled little brother. Reputation matters in this industry, you said."

"It does."

"There’s all kinds of things a person can do for a living. This career of yours is fine if you like it but don’t forget it’s all about image. Sexy, beautiful…whatever. Ultimately, you’re helping them sell something but that doesn’t mean it defines who you are. So, don’t listen to any of Cersei’s bullshit about freckles and supermodels or whatever. Don’t let her put you down and don’t let her come between you and Jon. I saw you two together last night. Whoever Jon's dated in the past, he only had eyes for you last night."

"Thanks, Bran."

"And while you are beautiful, you’re so much more than your looks. You’re smart and you’re kind and courageous. You could go back to college and find something else to do if you ever get sick of this.”

“How do I go back to college with no money or scholarship?”

“I can’t answer that right now but maybe things are changing for us, right? Where there’s a will there’s a way. Just remember that this is your life. You’re not anyone’s puppet and no matter what, I’m always on your side.”

“Are you trying to make me cry being this sweet? This is not what I expect out of you especially this early in the morning.”

“It’s crazy, I know. I must still be surfing my self-congratulatory high for fixing you up with Jon.”

“You didn’t fix me up with Jon.”

“Did, too. You would never have met him for pizza last night without me…or held hands or played footsie under the table either.”

“Bran!”

He grinned wryly at her yelp then took her hand in his. “Mom and Dad aren’t here so I guess occasionally it’s on me to say something encouraging to my sister. We need that sometimes. I know I couldn’t begin to get through my bad days without you, okay?”

“Thank you, Bran.”

“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure to fix you up with a guy who isn’t a tool like Joffrey.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know.” 

The dogs started barking and a knock at their door followed. Sansa leapt to her feet, wondering wildly if Jon had decided to pop by their apartment unexpectedly this morning even though he wasn’t picking her up until later. She didn’t think he’d surprise her quite this way and she wasn’t even dressed yet. 

Then, she started panicking that it was Cersei. Her fertile imagination went from picturing Cersei with a pack of lawyers in silk suits to a nightmare scenario of Cersei pulling strings to get the Department of Children’s Services to do welfare checks on Bran while paying off the landlord to get them evicted. Basically, her fears had kicked into overdrive.

“Hey…it’s okay. I’ll answer. Go get dressed,” Bran told her, his serenity making her take a minute to breathe. She needed to calm down. 

But it turned out the person on the other side of the door was indeed connected to Cersei.

She heard Bran talking to whoever it was, some young woman by the sound of it. At first, he sounded a little terse but then his tone mellowed. Sansa was growing more and more curious and once she’d finished dressing, she emerged from her bedroom to find Myrcella standing in their small living room.

“Hi, Sansa.” 

She looked nervous standing between her and Bran. She had got her blonde hair and green eyes from her mother. She'd heard some say that she was a dead ringer for a younger Cersei. Sansa couldn’t see it. Maybe that was because Myrcella was so sweet. 

She was only eighteen, eighteen in the carefree way Sansa had once been. Even more so really. She’d been modeling since she was fifteen but she’d also grown up in the lap of luxury, surrounded by the so-called beautiful people and never left wondering how she’d manage to afford both rent and groceries.

She noticed Myrcella’s eyes darting around the apartment, no doubt taking in the second-hand furniture and how badly the walls needed fresh paint. Would that bother her later when Jon came over? She decided it wouldn’t. She was going to place some faith in her judgment and in him and stop worrying over superficial things. 

“Hello, Myrcella. What can I do for you?”

“Mother doesn’t know I’m here,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as if she half expected someone to jump out of a corner at her. 

Sansa didn’t know if she entirely trusted that. Myrcella was sweet but she was Cersei’s daughter. “Alright,” she said, noncommittally.

“I’ve never expected to be on the cover of _Highgarden_.” Sansa nodded, not sure what this was about. “I’m just saying, I don’t know if I ever would be…if I’m even pretty enough. If I am though, I'll always wonder if it's only because of who my mother is.”

“You’re pretty enough for the cover, Myrcella, no matter who your mother is. You’re beautiful.” Meanwhile, her brain was scrambling. Had Cersei done something to convince Olenna to give Myrcella the cover? What was going on?!

“She’s right,” Bran said from behind her. “You’re beautiful but you’re more than your pretty face, Ms. Baratheon. Tell my sister what you brought with you.”

She flashed a smile at Bran and seemed to steel herself to continue. “She’s my mother. I’ve always looked up to her. I’ve always took a lot of pride in people telling me I look like her but I'm not a little girl anymore. She’s not always an easy person to live with and I know she's made enemies. She’s demanding and sometimes she’s harsh. She expects to get her way. I learned early that it was easier if I just smiled and went along with whatever she wants.”

“Sometimes, it’s easier. Sometimes, it gets too hard to just go along,” Bran said and Sansa wasn’t sure if that was more for her or for Myrcella.

“Exactly. Anyway, I do love her but she’s wrong to be acting this way.” Myrcella held out a manilla envelope. It was fairly heavy for an envelope, full of papers. “I figured this might help…in case you decide you don’t want to just go alone with whatever she says.”

“What is it?”

“A copy of your contract. I overheard her saying it was a good thing she’d never gave you a copy and I just thought that maybe you should have it. An agent's supposed to work on a model's behalf to help her, not hold her back.”

* * *

He’d picked her up at six sharp and Bran had been there, giving them a saucy look when he mentioned to Sansa he’d be visiting a friend later and probably wouldn’t be home until after eleven.

_“You’ve got classes tomorrow.”_

_“Not until 10:30.”_

_“I don’t want you alone on the streets that late. The city is…”_

_“Jojen’s sister’s going to be there. She said she’d give me a ride home since she’s a night owl, too. Don’t worry.”_

Sansa had begrudgingly acquiesced as Jon had fought to maintain an expression of friendly concern without appearing to choose sides. Jon really liked Bran but he couldn’t say he’d miss him being there when it was time for him to bring Sansa back home.

He’d greeted the dogs who’d both seemed to lose interest in him once they realized Ghost wasn’t with him. That was okay. It was Sansa he’d wanted to see anyway. 

By agreement, they’d decided not to talk shop once they arrived at the restaurant, only covering the day’s highlights and a few details regarding tomorrow’s shoot on the drive there. He was glad Cersei hadn’t called her today in a way but he wasn’t sure if that was entirely a good sign. 

Olenna had been thrilled when Sansa had called her earlier, confirming she’d be at tomorrow’s shoot, and casually mentioned she might like a little help looking through the terms of the contract she’d signed with Cersei last year. Olenna had immediately dispatched Renly to get a copy of that copy. 

All of that had been far from Jon’s thoughts since they’d been seated at their table. 

The little bistro he’d chosen when Sansa had asked him to pick, saying she didn’t know what was good in the city, had not let him down. Not that he would ever expect it would. Located on the bay, the fresh seafood was delicious and the atmosphere was intimate, a touch romantic but not stuffy. Best of all, there were never any paps loitering at the place. 

It was one of Sam’s favorite places, one him and his wife often dined at on date nights when their son had a sitter. Jon liked the idea of maybe bringing Sansa back again when they could make it a double-date with Sam and Gilly. He could picture it, the four of them laughing and chatting companionably, Sansa’s charming courtesy smoothing over his less sociable side, no doubt. 

Gilly would want to guess the names of every passing fishing boat and Jon would bet Sansa would enjoy the game. Sam would order the crab legs and the other three would share amused grins as he methodically picked them clean of every last savory morsel long after they were finished eating. Sansa would be smiling at him as he smiled back like a goof. He’d relish the sounds she’d make in appreciation of the chowder and he’d start planning all the ways he’d want to draw those sounds out of her when they were alone again.

But for now, that was a daydream. 

Jon couldn’t say he was completely relaxed at the moment either. There was too much at stake tonight, too much hopeful anticipation combined with nervous and tension although he’d grant that so far the date seemed to be going well. He hoped so anyway. It’d been a while since he’d had a legitimate date that didn’t include a red carpet. He was happier without it. He was happy, period.

They talked and talked for nearly two hours, snug at their little table where they could watch the harbor lights reflecting on the water as the moon made its appearance. He learned more about Sansa and her childhood, about Bran and their parents. Not just the tragic stuff but the good memories, too. At last, he was truly getting to know her like he’d wanted. 

In return, she’d learned a good deal about him, about his parents and their divorce, about what it’d been like growing up around this industry and how he loved Grenn and his other friends because they were so far removed from it. He told her of his passion for photography in general which had pushed him into his current career. 

After he’d paid the bill, they went for a stroll along the pier. He was trying to figure out if he should reach for her hand. They’d held hands yesterday at the coffeeshop when she’d been distressed and last night during pizza with Grenn and Bran there. Why was he so nervous over taking her hand?

She glanced up at the night sky just as he was reaching out. “The spotlights.” 

“Pardon?”

“Just noticing the spotlights up there in the sky. Reminds me of Joffrey and his premier tonight…and Cersei.” Just saying the name seemed to deflate her a bit.

Jon offered his arm and was indescribably pleased when she wrapped her own around it and pressed up against him. “Did you want to go to that premier?” he asked, teasingly.

“Hell, no,” she scoffed. “I hated those things with him and I can’t say I adore it anyway.”

“Well, that makes two of us. But it’ll be part of things for you after tomorrow, I’d say.”

“I suppose the right date by my side could make it a little more tolerable.” 

“Yeah…the right date.” 

His teasing grin faded, thinking of Arianne and the others. 

She noticed. “Did I say something wrong, Jon?”

“No, it’s just that…” He shook his head and held a quick debate in his head. He figured he may as well be upfront. “The last model I dated was very clear about what she wanted from me. Well, she wasn’t the only one but I guess unlike the others, I stupidly wound up hurt by it the last time.”

Her brow furrowed. “What did she want from you?”

“Someone who looked good in a tux for red carpets and someone who could keep her amused in the, uh…” He swallowed hard, hoping this wouldn’t offend Sansa. “…the bedroom.”

She let go of his arm and turned to face him, studying him intently. “And you’re saying that’s not all you wanted from her?”

“No but I wasn't head over heels for her or anything. I was just tired of everything being casual and I...maybe when I was a little younger I thought that was enough but it’s not for me, not anymore."

"What happened with you two?"

"She found a billionaire and told me to take a hike." Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. "She said it nicer than that but...I don't want that kind of relationship anymore. I want…” 

He huffed, worried he’d screwed up by reacting noticeably to her statement about dates for the red carpet and by dumping his insecurities after Arianne on her. He didn't want to frighten her off. It was only their first date. 

_Third if you count coffee and pizza yesterday as date one and two._

_Ugh, shut up,_ he told himself before plucking up his courage. Maybe he was heading into shoaling waters here and his heart was skipping along at frantic pace, terrified of rejection but it seemed better to be honest with her, better to face flat-out rejection now rather than fall in deeper with her and find out later she wasn’t interested in the things he wanted. 

“I want something real, Sansa. I want something meaningful, something that isn’t about a tabloid image. I want a relationship with someone who might want me for me…and I want to that with you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. Yes, you're beautiful but you're so lovely and kind inside, too. I admire everything you've done and endured out of love for Bran and I think you're an amazing girl. Talking to you over dinner, getting to know you tonight's been the best. It's probably too soon for me to suggest such a thing but since we've met, I've just been thinking that there could be something between us, something that I've never had before but would love to have with you. I know it's only our first date and…”

“Third date.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure how to count our two dates yesterday considering you were miserable for most of the first one…”

“I wasn’t miserable with you.”

“Thanks but then you were with Bran and Grenn was with me for the second and we both realized…”

“It was the best surprise I think I'd ever have...maybe tied with Olenna's phone call yesterday morning. Or marginally ahead of that even. Don't tell.”

Her smile was playful. Shoaling waters were nowhere in sight. This seemed like pretty smooth sailing. “Sansa…are you saying that you might…”

He didn’t finish. She stole his words and his breath away when she framed his face between her hands.

 _She’s stole my heart, too_ , he told himself after she leaned in and kissed him and right before he eagerly started kissing her back. 

* * *

The tension had been welling up on the car ride home and making it hard for her to draw a proper breath. That and the kisses they’d shared on the pier had left her pretty breathless already. Dinner and getting to know each other, a moonlight stroll along the bay and sweet kisses. What more could a girl want? 

This next part though, this was something she didn’t have a lot of experience with. 

After Bran’s accident and then with her parents’ deaths, she’d spent so much of the last three years focused on family. That and her career which basically amounted to supporting her family. Needless to say, it didn’t leave a lot of time for dating. 

There’d been a couple of boys she’d liked back in school and early in her university days but they’d been boys and nothing very serious had come of those relationships. 

Later, there’d been a couple of guys with bottles of wine and cloyingly sweet words when she’d been looking for a distraction from her sorrows. Nothing serious there either. 

Then, Cersei had started pushing her towards Joffrey. Thank God that had never been more than a show but it had seriously impacted her freedom to look around for something else, something more serious…until Jon.

Well, she was finished letting Cersei dictate her life, especially her love life. And, no matter what Jon’s past relationships had been like, she'd taken his words earlier to heart. She would not let vicious rumors, fears or insecurities rob her of a chance with him for something special, something real. That’s what he’d said he wanted and it just so happened that she wanted those things, too. 

They were both quiet on the elevator ride up to the apartment but their pinkie fingers were linked, a tender, innocent gesture perhaps except she felt incredibly wound up by it. The air between them was charged in another manner altogether, the atmosphere crackling with that tension which was ramped up to ten in this confined space. It was different than when they’d been at their cozy little table at dinner or when they'd been surrounded by the sea air on the pier and shared their first tentative, sweet kisses. 

When the elevator stopped, he gestured for her to step out first in gentlemanly fashion. But he was right behind her as they walked along the narrow hall and she’d swear the heat of his body could be felt. She kept shooting shy glances at him over her shoulder and got a delightfully wicked thrill every time he grinned back at her. 

Her hands shook slightly as she unlocked the door. She hoped he wouldn’t notice. The dogs were there, barking out their greetings as she closed it behind them. She gave both dogs a pat and called out to make sure Bran hadn’t returned early.

“Looks like he’s still gone,” she said unsteadily as the dogs trotted off to lay back down. 

“Looks like,” Jon said, a slight quaver in his voice that pleased her. 

He cleared his throat and she watched his throat bob above his collar when he swallowed. It was mesmerizing. Fuck, she wanted him but how much did she want right now? 

He scrubbed at his beard in an endearing manner and looked around as she removed her coat. He was nervous just like she was. Maybe he’d slept with two supermodels, maybe more but he was nervous with her and couldn’t that be because he wanted something more like he’d said? 

“So…” he began but didn’t manage to go anywhere with it. 

“So.”

He tilted his head to the side and his hand reached for hers. They were standing two feet apart but their pinkies were linked again. She loved that.

“Sansa, what do you want tonight? If you don't want more than a goodnight kiss, I hope you know I’ll be completely okay with that."

"I know.” She’d suspected as much but it was nice to hear it. “I want more kisses. Maybe I want more than some kisses but not..." 

She looked towards her bedroom. The door was wide open and Bran wouldn’t be home for another hour or more. All the same, she tensed and he noticed. 

His pinky finger curled around hers a little more firmly. "Sansa, are you...have you ever..."

"I'm not a virgin." God, she was flushing now. She grimaced, wishing she was smoother than this. 

"Okay,” he said, simply. "I just wanted to know for sure."

That gave her a boost of confidence. "I’m not a virgin but I’m not very experienced either and I'm not ready for sex this soon."

"Okay."

"But maybe I'm ready for more than a kiss goodnight." 

“That's definitely okay with me.” 

They stood there staring at each other intently for another three seconds. She wasn’t sure if they were going to start laughing like idiots or kissing. Her chest was heaving in anticipation. Three more seconds passed and she had her answer when he reached for her.

She made the most shameful whimpery sound when he wrapped his arms around her waist. That was okay because she enjoyed his desperate groan when their lips met. He pulled her whole body firmly up against his as they kissed. They moved their heads in sync, twisting to slot their mouths together and deepen the kiss, hot and hungry kisses, different than those first testing ones. 

Molded together, she clutched at his shoulders and then biceps as his hands settled at the small of her back. She could feel every inch of his muscles under his jacket. She longed to tear that jacket off of him. 

She gave him a light push towards the sofa and he took the lead, pulling her over and pulling her down on top of him while he was at it. He quickly shrugged off his jacket. She was sitting in his lap. One of his hands was soon splayed across her knees above her boots. She could feel the heat of his palm on her bare skin, the way she hadn’t been able to last night when she’d been wearing jeans instead of a skirt. She wouldn’t mind feeling some more of that hand.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said before the kissing resumed. 

She wound her arms around his neck and let her fingers sink into his curls, enjoying their softness and the way his eyes grew darker when her fingernails lightly raked his scalp or she gave a tug. She was surprised to find she liked the scrape of his beard along her chin or cheeks when they’d shift. She’d never a kissed a man with a beard like this before now. She couldn't picture kissing another man ever again right now. 

And as the kissing continued, his hand began to make its way up her thigh slowly as his mouth moved down to her throat.

“Yes…” she whined. The hand climbed higher. “Yes, yes.”

She felt his hot breath on her neck. “I want to touch you, Sansa. Can I?”

She ground down hard on his lap in reply, enjoying the way he moaned and the feel of his hard cock poking her ass through his trousers.

“Ah fuck, Sansa.” She felt his teeth softly graze her collarbone before he pulled back to look her in the eye, his hand sliding under the edge of her skirt. He paused before he got any further. “I need to hear you say it. I want to know you want this.” 

“Yes, I want it,” she told him, head bobbing up and down to reiterate it. She was completely dazed with desire. 

“Thank fuck,” he rumbled before cupping her mound through her panties. 

He rubbed her just enough to promise, to tease. _“Ohhhh…”_

“Do you like that?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you want more?”

“Please,” she begged.

“Shit, you’ll be the end of me, love.” He kissed her again before nudging her panties aside. His other hand gripped her waist, shifting her in his lap. “Spread your legs for me, Sweet Sansa.” 

She did as he said, wet and desperate for his hand, her legs spread as she writhed in his lap so needy. “Jon…” She nearly yelped when he finally touched her at last and then she was quivering. “Touch me, please. Right there.”

"Patience," he teased as he lazily caressed her folds and circled her clit with masterful skill and loving tenderness. 

Meanwhile, his other hand was not idle. It had gone from her waist to up and under her blouse. Deciding she didn’t want the barrier, she deftly undid it but last minute modesty had her leaving her bra in place. He’d seen her in a bra already at least. 

“I was trying so hard to hold it together during that shoot last week,” he told her as his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “It was the first time I’d ever wanted to forget everything about rules and what was professional and kiss the woman I was shooting right then and there. You were so sexy. It was magic and I wanted to touch you so badly.”

“I wanted you then, too. I loved the way you were talking to me, telling me what to do. Your voice…”

“My voice?”

“I like your voice.”

“Do you?” She nodded and he looked pleased. “You were so hot in that bra but the silk chemise...” 

“I loved that chemise.”

“I loved you in it. I’d love to see you in it again when I could be the one to take it off of you.”

She spread her legs a touch wider as he was continuing his slow tease below. “Please, Jon.”

He smiled and started sucking on her neck. His hand cupped one breast through her bra just as his other thumb brushed her clit. She could’ve wept with relief but this was just the start. 

Sansa could feel the build-up to her coveted release already and he hadn’t even put his finger inside her yet. Her grip felt weak as he grasped his shoulders, his hair, his face, anything she could get. 

And when he starting massaging her clit, a rhythmic stroke that was perfect and had her grinding down on his hand quite shamelessly, he slipped his finger inside her at last and she knew she was going to cum much harder and faster than she would’ve believe possible from a handjob. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she panted. 

It was all she could seem to say, the obscenities drawn out of her like an exorcism by this man who might be Satan or a saint when it came to those hands of his. 

He’d slipped a second finger inside of her, pumping in and out and never ignoring the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex which would bring her to climax soon, too soon maybe. Her legs were jelly, hanging limply apart. She could barely keep her seat on his lap.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured just when she thought she might topple. 

He was sucking on her earlobe now and teasing her nipple through her bra when he curled his fingers just so and…

_Bliss._

Like experiencing a fireworks display while driving through a tunnel, it filled all her head and reverberated throughout her body, exploding behind her eyelids as they fluttered closed. Everything was centered, focused on that pleasure. She was vaguely aware of a long, low groan escaping and didn't even care that it was coming from her.

Shaken to her core, she was clinging to him, that delicious coil still unwinding in waves as he started peppering her cheek with light kisses.

“Goddamn, that was the most beautiful sight,” he said in a voice that was so deep and gruff it seemed to spring right from his chest. 

Her eyes opened to find him staring at her. She half expected to feel vulnerable or even a touch of shame over her wanton state after such a mind-blowing orgasm, especially considering he’d just asked her out for the first time yesterday morning. She didn’t feel either. She felt sated. She felt safe. 

He was grinning at her, half smug and half in awe by the look in his eye. It made her feel like giggling. 

“You really are good with your hands.” 

He chuckled and carefully eased his fingers out of her, sliding her panties back in place. She closed her legs again, wishing she could think of something better to say than ‘that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.’ 

But before she could say anything more, he left her speechless when he popped his fingers in his mouth, the ones that had just been inside of her, and sucked them clean like they’d been dipped in chocolate sauce rather than her pussy.

He then gave her a sinfully tempting look and whispered, “When you’re ready, love…just wait until I show you what I can do with my tongue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to write the cover photoshoot with some Olenna, Varys and Cersei and we'll see if Myrcella's rebellious act helps our girl, too. But I felt like this chapter should focus on Jon and Sansa and their relationship moving forward (with a bit of Bran and Grenn because I love them) so I hope you enjoyed it.  
> 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears. I've been taking a little break from posting to relax and focus on writing lately but every time I turn on the TV or look at the internet today I wind up stressed and I thought maybe some others might be feeling that way, too. So, for what it's worth, I'm posting this chapter and hope some of you might enjoy some Jonsa escapism today. <3<3<3

After Jon had left last night, Sansa had hurried off to her bedroom but she’d laid awake for a long while, remembering the night. Anxiety tried to creep in a few times, speaking in Cersei’s voice, but she’d resolutely shut it out to the best of her ability, shamelessly recalling Jon’s skilled hand and his husky voice promising that his tongue could outdo it.

When she woke Friday morning, she grimaced at herself in the mirror. She looked tired though happy. Accepting that make-up could cover a multitude of sins including a poor night’s sleep, she determined to have a positive outlook for today. What good would fretting do her? And even if Cersei showed up at _Highgarden_ with an army of attorneys at her back, Sansa trusted that she had Jon on her and Bran’s side if no one else. She didn’t feel so small and alone anymore and that was something.

Of course, she’d listened for Bran to come home last night, which he did closer to midnight. He was her little brother and she was his guardian but, not wishing to face that very astute little brother considering what had happened between her and Jon on their sofa earlier, she’d called out a greeting through the door rather than coming out to talk like she usually might’ve, saying she needed her beauty rest for the shoot. She told herself at the time he’d think nothing of it. In her heart, she knew better.

He’d left a note on the table this morning: _Gone to walk the dogs. Be back soon._

She poured herself a small bowl of cereal and put a few mixed berries from the freezer in it to thaw. Olenna had said she’d send a car for her at 9 and she wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting. She’d jump in the shower and be ready by 8:45. Hopefully, Bran would be back before she left. Sometimes, he lost track of time at the dog park and he didn’t have class until 10:30.

Just as she was rinsing out her cereal bowl, her phone pinged with a text from Jon. _You’re getting wooed today._

She grinned and typed a reply. _By you?_

_Definitely by me. Can I take you to dinner tonight? Can I make you dinner at my place maybe? Grenn’s going to be at a friend of ours late tonight to watch a boxing match._

A few beats and a new text. _Or is it too soon for me to ask you to come over? It’d just be dinner and only whatever else you want to happen. No pressure._

Another text as she was sighing over his consideration and amendments. _I’m getting off track here. I meant you’re getting wooed by Olenna this morning._

_Why would she want to woo me? Can you really cook?_

_Because you’re you and she loves the idea of pissing Cersei off. And can I cook? Grenn and I don’t just exist on pizza and take away. I’ve got skills._

_So you’ve mentioned 😉_

She blushed at her boldness as soon as she sent that. She blushed even more at his response.

_I look forward to showing off any and all skills that you're interested in. Enjoy your limo ride. I wish I could be in that backseat with you._

Oh, he was going to prove those skills, wasn’t he? She squirmed in place to relieve the ache that just the thought of that produced. And a limo ride with Jon? The naughty things she might like to…but a limo ride?! Today?!

She hurried off to shower.

* * *

Jon tossed the ball again, watching the three huskies tear off across the park after it. They liked this game and had a grand time tussling over who would actually keep possession of the ball long enough to bring it back. Summer had won this last round and come bounding back. He dropped it at Jon’s feet, getting a pat before all three of them had waited eagerly for him to throw it again. He'd obliged them and turned towards Bran.

“Alright, say it.”

“Say what?” Bran asked.

“Whatever’s on your mind. You’ve been very quiet.” 

“I’m quiet sometimes.”

Bran had sent him a text early asking if he was bringing Ghost to the dog park this morning. He’d quickly agreed to meet him. Sometimes, Bran was chatty and sometimes not as much this early but today felt different. There was tension between them that hadn't ever been there before, even the day they'd met. 

“Quieter than normal then. You keep staring at me like I’m a puzzle.”

Bran bowed his head. “Sorry, I guess I am looking at you. I don’t think I would’ve ever guessed you worked in the fashion industry.” He gestured towards the track pants and old sweatshirt he’d worn to the dog park. 

“Are you hacking on my clothes?”

“No, they’re fine for bringing your dog to the park. I've seen you more dressed up a time or two but I still wouldn’t have made the connection.”

“It was a tremendous surprise all around…but a good one. At least, it was for me.”

“Yeah, it was. I’m glad you turned out to be you. I was afraid Sansa’s Jon from work would be another asshole like Joffrey.” 

He started laughing as Lady hurried back with the ball this time. “Again, huh?” he asked the dogs before tossing it farther. “So, if you’re glad I’m me, what’s on your mind this morning?”

Bran turned away, watching the dogs with his brow furrowed. “We’ve not had things easy.”

“I know that. Sansa’s told me quite a bit. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you both, Bran. I’m very sorry about you losing your parents. I’m sorry about the hit and run driver. It makes me so angry to think of someone doing that, especially to a kid, and not even having the courage to face what they’ve done.”

“Thanks but what I’m trying to get at is Sansa’s my big sister but she’s still a girl in a way, too. By rights, she should still be in college.” 

“Of course.” Jon knew that. She was twenty-one and an adult but Bran was right. She would probably still be a college girl if circumstances had been different. Instead, she was struggling to support them both in a high-pressure career that could be utterly vicious and wreak havoc on a young woman’s self-esteem. 

“I’m always going to be her little brother in her eyes and I can’t take care of her the way I want to but I'm still going to try.”

"Of course, you are."

Bran grimaced and met his eyes. “She didn’t come out of her room last night and talk to me when I got home. It was unusual for her.”

He suspected Sansa might’ve been a little embarrassed at the thoughts of Bran knowing just how well their date had gone. Based on their texts from earlier, he felt reasonably sure she wasn’t regretting what had happened between them anyway.

“Have you talked to her today?”

“No, she was still asleep when I left.” He could see a flush rising up Bran’s neck as he continued. “It was your first date.” 

Jon wasn’t about to get technical over the number of dates they’d had as him and Sansa had counted it. He knew what Bran was saying and, honestly, it was their first date that was all about them with no shadow of Cersei spoiling it and no roommates, brothers or dogs for company. 

“You’re worried about me taking advantage of her? Using her?”

A jerky nod followed by “It’s not my business.”

“No, it’s not.”

The earlier flush had spread all across Bran’s face but he was able to answer. “I’m sorry. When I met Grenn Wednesday afternoon he talked about your job a lot and…he mentioned some of the girls you’ve dated.”

_Grenn, if I didn’t know you meant no harm, I’d want to kick your ass right now._

He wasn’t stupid. He knew Grenn had admired his luck with the ladies in the past but had harbored a bit of jealousy over it, too. He also knew that Grenn would never have intentionally done anything to make Bran question Jon’s sincerity when it came to Sansa since he didn’t even know the full connection then. 

“Those other women I’ve dated weren’t your sister. I didn’t mean much to them and they could never compare to her for me, alright?”

“Sorry. I’m not judging you but she’s my sister. I don’t really want to know about her love life that way.” He shuddered and made Jon laugh when he added, “Not at all.”

“Okay.” Ghost came back with the ball, the three dogs circling excitedly when Jon took it from his mouth. He tossed it once more and took a seat so he could be eye to eye with Bran. "It's not your business but I will say that nothing has happened or is going to happen between your sister and I that Sansa doesn’t want. So, what can I do to convince you that I have ever intention of treating her right?”

“I guess you just did. Sorry for making it awkward,” Bran grinned sheepishly. “Obviously, I suck at this protective brother business.”

“It’s alright. You love her and I love that. And, you’re doing a fair job of the protective brother business, I’d say. My palms are all sweaty.”

Bran rolled his eyes and started chuckling. “I think that’s from dog slobber.”

"Probably. So, we're good then?"

"Yeah, we're good." 

His phone started buzzing in his pocket and, thinking it might be Sansa, he fished it out. It was Olenna. Deciding not to ignore her this morning considering everything riding on the day for Sansa, he answered. 

"Good morning, Olenna. I'll be there in less than an hour."

"What can you tell me about Sansa's brother, Jon?"

"Bran?" He glanced over at the young man in question who was looking his way after hearing his name. "Why are you asking?"

He listened and answered some of her questions. He didn't feel right about sharing too much. It was Bran's business and Sansa's. Deep down, he knew Olenna's altruism towards Sansa's plight with Cersei was more about trumping Cersei than anything; however, so long as their endgames coincided, they could certainly work together.

He hung up and turned back to Bran who was watching him curiously, having only heard half the conversation. 

"What have you got planned after class today?" 

* * *

If this was Olenna Tyrell’s idea of wooing, Sansa decided she could get used to it as she was carried through the city, enclosed in her private little space looking out behind darkened windows with her nose pressed against the glass. Did people really ride around in cars like this regularly? Never worrying over traffic, oblivious to honking horns and red lights as they lounged on the softest cowhide with handstitched roses embroidered into the headrest?

 _“There’s water and sodas chilling in the armrest, miss. There’s a split of champagne as well. It’s early but Old Bronn won’t say a word,”_ the driver had added with a wink. 

She wished Bran had been back in time to see it but he’d texted that him and Jon were grabbing a bagel and some coffee together after the dog park. She was envious that she couldn’t be there with them. She was envious of bagels, too. 

_Well, they’re not riding around like royalty like me._

She remembered Jon’s text about how he’d love to be in the backseat with her. She grinned, suddenly wishing for that more than anything. 

She would have hair and make-up to sit through before she’d be ready for Jon’s camera and Olenna had said they’d be having a little meeting first as well. There might be paperwork to sign. Just thinking of that made her stomach knot up. She wondered if Olenna’s people had had a chance to look at that copy of her contract that Myrcella had provided.

Thinking of Myrcella, she decided to send a text asking how she was and if she had any plans this weekend. A total break from Cersei might mean a break from Myrcella in the end but she hoped not. 

The car stopped before she received a reply and Bronn opened her door. She scooted out and looked up and up, swallowing the urge to gape like a country mouse. She’d been around a good number of studios by now and to various runway shows but this was the first time she’d visited the headquarters of _Highgarden_. 

The sleek glass and steel exterior transformed into something more intimate and elegant once she passed through revolving door. No cold marble or snarling lion statues like at Cersei’s agency. It was hardwood floors and lush landscape murals at the entrance with the word Highgarden formed by golden roses etched across the far wall. 

Once she made it past the reception area though, greeted by Olenna Tyrell herself, no less, the façade shifted into the buzzing hive of activity she’d pictured as part of the background at a fashion magazine.

There was a room filled with swaths of fabrics and one of a kind dresses with designers debating cuts and colors. 

There was a large and very standard looking office area with cubicles and ringing phones and people talking or working on their computers. 

There was a room which was basically four walls of glass filled with hundreds of prints stuck here and there and scattered across a huge glass table. That was where she spied Shae intently looking at some photographs.

She waved as Shae looked up, giving her a bright smile. Shae started to head her way but Olenna shook her head.

“Later, darling. There’s someone we need to bump into first.”

“Who?”

Olenna chuckled and tapped something into her cell phone without answering. She led her down a long wood-paneled hallway to her office. She nodded to her personal assistant and he bowed his head in reply. 

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Tyrell. I’m afraid I mixed up the times of your meetings,” Renly was saying as someone else emerged from the open office door.

“Remind me to box your ears later,” she said in a tone which could be interpreted as either joking or deadly serious. “And did you speak with your niece?" she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

"Yes, ma'am. She's coming."

Who was coming? 

"Very well. Varys, darling! I apologize for keeping you waiting and for Renly’s gaffe with the double-booking.” Sansa was suddenly suspicious that this had been planned out. “But since you’re here, have you met Sansa Stark yet, darling? Surely, you have. No?” 

She gasped with animation when he politely shook his head. Sansa was now certain this had been no accident at all. From his smirk, she suspected Varys knew it, too. He didn’t seem to mind at least. 

“Well, she’s an absolute angel walking amongst us mortals. Jon’s already in love with her, isn’t he, darling?” 

Sansa managed no more than a squeak of protest in response. Jon in love with her already? God, that made her feel flitter-flutters all over. Maybe it was too soon for that but could he possibly be at some point? She knew she was already falling for him and he'd said he wanted something real and something with her.

“Anyway, Sansa’s going to be modeling your clothes today. Won’t she look fabulous in that little black number?”

“Certainly, she will, Olenna," the bald man with the intelligent eyes and wearing a suit that might make a peacock envious answered. "It’s lovely to meet you, my dear. How long have you been modeling?”

“Not terribly long,” she admitted. “Well, it’s been roughly two years since my first job but I’ve only been here in the city a couple of months and…this is a very big deal for me. Everyone at _Highgarden_ ’s been so kind and Jon is…” She felt herself flushing and was afraid she might sound stupid to this man. 

He only beamed at her answer. 

"She's one of Cersei's."

"Cersei's?" His beaming smile curdled.

"Well...not for long. We'll have press at the shoot today. Do you mind?" she asked him next. 

What did that mean? She'd dearly love to have Mrs. Tyrell's confidence about Cersei. 

“Very well done,” Olenna whispered a few minutes later as they headed into her office. 

She’d promised Varys they’d talk more before the shoot which he would be attending. Sansa's stomach knotted up at the thought. What if he didn't like her? Jon had suggested she could possibly be signed by Varys, be exclusive to his label but she didn't even know him. 

"I didn't really do anything."

“You didn't have to do anything but show him that sweet face. He can’t resist an ingénue, especially one with a sad history who’ll also make his clothes look like they’re actually worth their outlandish price."

"Sad history?" She hadn't told Mrs. Tyrell anything about her past. Had Jon?

"Us old folks are bitter old pills some days but we do adore a fresh faced newcomer with stars in their eyes to remind us that it’s still magical to somebody.” 

Before Sansa could think of what she might say to that, the door opened and three men in silk suits walked in. Olenna smiled and beckoned them to take a seat before guiding Sansa to sit in one near her. 

“Now, let’s take a look at your contract with Cersei, shall we?”

* * *

Two hours later, Sansa had been whisked via limo over to the same studio three blocks away where they'd done the Xaro shoot. She stared at her reflection in the mirror as Ros was finishing with her hair, letting her mind run free after enduring a rather grueling discussion of what, when and where with a bunch of lawyers regarding her contract, including one who was her eldest grandson apparently. 

Threatening verbiage, duress and coercion, undue influence were just a few of the terms they’d been excitedly bandying about by the end of the discussion. 

_“And you didn’t have an attorney go over this before you signed it?”_ Willas Tyrell had asked.

 _“I didn’t I have one to ask.”_ They’d clucked their tongues in unison, making her feel stupid. She’d given Olenna an imploring look, hoping she wouldn’t think her an idiot. _“The government had cut some of Bran’s assistance because he’d just been awarded his scholarship. I was trying to pay for his therapy out of pocket and she offered a bonus if I'd go ahead and sign.”_ She’d been barely twenty when she’d signed that contract, broke and desperate. She’d had no attorney to consult. She hadn’t even thought of needing one. She’d needed the money too damn badly. 

_"You were clearly in a desperate situation, darling. You're not the first young model to be taken advantage of."_

But had she been taken advantage of? Prior to Cersei's behavior on Wednesday, she'd found her work and been teaching her the ropes, right? Wasn't that what an agent did for a model?

_"It's not so much what she did regarding you professionally...at least until a couple of days ago. It's the threats and the personal angle that we're going to use. That and the so-called exclusive deal with Faceless which is a pile of manure."_

She'd felt stripped and exposed after that discussion, far more than she had during the Xaro shoot. She'd sent Jon a text for some reassurance and some answers but, other than receiving a rather cryptic and unexpected phone call this morning, he was equally in the dark. He had promised to come see her as soon as he could. 

“You alright, honey?” Ros asked kindly.

“Yeah, I’m…I guess I’m okay.” Was she? Had the copy of the contract helped at all? They weren’t telling her much. 

“You’re going to look beautiful in that dress,” Ros said, clearly trying to settle her ruffled nerves. 

Sansa glanced at the platinum tulle ballgown she’d be wearing first for today’s shoot. Loras had brought it in a few minutes ago, saying Jon and Shae nearly had things ready. Loras had told her it was something special Varys had held back from his last show especially for this cover at Olenna’s request. She just knew that ordinarily she’d feel like Cinderella or something in it. She wondered what Jon would think. 

“You look stunning.”

She spun around in her seat at the sound of his voice, her pulse picking up at once. She’d not seen him since last night. It was only fourteen hours ago but it felt like a long while to her. Just seeing him helped relieve some of her mounting anxieties. 

“I’m not wearing anything pretty yet,” she demurred, eyes darting down to her simple white blouse. God, she was falling, falling, falling for him.

“And you’re still a knock-out to me,” he said, linking his pinky finger with hers...just like last night. 

"What if he doesn't like me in his dresses? What if..."

"He's going to love you."

"What if I'm awkward or..."

"Impossible."

"Jon..."

"If you feel awkward, tell me and I'll make it better but you don't need to worry. You're a natural."

She smiled up at him, drawing some courage from the contact and his sweet words. His dark eyes were all she could see as his cologne brought back memories of the night. 

“I just finished with her lips, Targaryen!” Ros complained a moment later when he leaned forward and kissed her. It was only a quick peck. She still felt dizzy from it. 

“Sorry, Ros.” His roguish grin completely negated his apology and Sansa didn't smother her giggle when Ros whacked his knuckles with her brush. “Ow!”

“What’s that?” she asked just as Jon and Ros appeared to be on the brink of arguing. She hadn’t noticed it at first but he was clutching a small box in his other hand, something about the size one would put a scarf in to be wrapped. 

He let go of her pinky and straightened up. “It's just a little something I picked up for you to wear…well, whenever you’d like to wear it.” He was biting at his bottom lip in the most adorable manner and leaned in again to whisper in her ear. “I promised no pressure and I meant it, Sansa. You can enjoy it just for yourself if you want but I saw Olenna's granddaughter eyeing it and thought it should be yours.”

He quickly whirled and headed out before she could stop him. 

Ros was busy fussing with her combs and pins. Curious, Sansa lifted the lid just enough to see what he’d given her. 

Mulberry silk and Chantilly lace. The navy blue chemise she’d modeled for him, the one she’d adored, the one he’d said he’d love to see her in again someday…and be the one to take it off of her.

Fifteen minutes later, she entered the studio where they’d be shooting and spied Jon rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and picking up his camera. Their eyes met and she couldn’t have wiped the smile from her face if she’d tried. 

Mrs. Tyrell was there with her assistant and some of other people, several that she didn't recognize. Varys was there with an assistant of his own but it felt like there was no one else in the room but them when Jon walked over towards her. 

“Am I about to be slapped for my impertinence?” His smile was at once bashful and wry.

“No. I wouldn't dream of slapping you especially after you gave me such a beautiful gift. Thank you.”

"I meant what I said. It's yours and no strings attached."

"That's sweet but I have a feeling I might want to model it for someone special later on. He's going to show me what a good cook he is...and maybe show me what else he's good at."

He groaned with longing, making her laugh and they linked pinkies again. “Are you ready to show them this is your cover, love?” He drew her hand up to his mouth for a swift kiss. 

She peeked around his shoulder at all the faces. There were so many but when the lights were on her, she'd only see Jon. 

She kissed him lightly once on the lips for courage. “I’m ready.”

* * *

_“Angle your chin. Perfect.”_

_“My hands?”_

_“Raise them up above your head.”_

_“I look ridiculous.”_

_“No way. You’re gorgeous. Just like that now. There’s my Weirwood girl.”_

She’d rolled her eyes playfully at that. 

_“Beautiful,”_ he’d mouthed just for her next when he’d reached forward and adjusted the silver tear drop earring that had got tangled in her hair.

 _“I’m a tree,”_ she’d huffed. 

_“The most beautiful tree in the world.”_

Her laughter had rang around the studio as he’d been handing off his camera to Shae. 

The Weirwood cover might turn out to be the best thing he’d ever shot. Alright, that was his biased opinion but several onlookers, far more than he’d ever had present at a shoot before, had been watching, murmuring excitedly as he gave Sansa directions and snapped away. 

He’d frowned when he’d seen Tanda Stokeworth was there. She published an article each week of ‘news and notes’ which was basically the equivalent of tabloid journalism for industry insiders. She’d had her fun with his parents’ divorce in her day and he would never like her because of it. Why had Olenna invited her? That was certainly the only reason she was here.

Sansa had been radiant in her silvery gown. She’d looked timeless, ethereal, like a faerie queen of old with her tall, slim figure and fiery red hair against the mossy backdrop. Her eyes blue were pools of mist he wanted to drown in. It was what he’d pictured in his mind’s eye when he’d pitched the idea of the living Weirwood model but so much better. He couldn’t name another model of his acquaintance who could fill this role. She was born for it. 

Varys had been quite pleased with the look, knowing it would create a stir for his evening wear. Olenna had something else stirring he suspected but she watched raptly all the same. 

He could’ve shot her in that dress another hour but there was a wardrobe change planned, he needed to swap memory cards and some props were waiting to be used. _Paper mâché nightmares._ Garlan would be pleased at least. 

Just before Sansa had stepped behind the changing curtain to put on the sexy little black number she’d be wearing while strolling through Garlan’s Weirwood forest, Varys and Olenna had cornered her. Her eyes may have boggled and he’d been hard pressed not to start smirking.

_I told you he’d want you._

And as he was waiting for her to come back out, they had newcomers join them.

“Bran, over here,” he called, waving at him and Grenn.

He thanked his roommate for taking off early to bring Bran after class. 

“It’s Friday and Fight Night. My crew were grateful for the early day…so long as I pay them the full day.”

“I appreciate it, Grenn.” _I’ll have to thank Pyp for inviting you over to watch that fight later, too._

Sansa had said she’d like to model that chemise for someone, someone who’d be making her dinner and also proving some things. _And that someone is me!_

“Nice trees,” Bran commented, wryly.

“Yeah, well…there’s your sister.” 

He couldn’t manage to say much else because she was show-stopping in the sexy black number with red lips and high heels. He suddenly wondered if this was Olenna’s devious way of torturing him, having Bran here so he wasn’t tempted to take Sansa behind the changing curtain and fuck her with his tongue right now, regardless of their crowd. 

“Holy shit,” Grenn murmured.

“Yeah, I know. You can hate me all you want for seeing her first.”

“No, who is that? She’s familiar but…goddamn.”

“Huh?”

He turned to see what Grenn was staring at since he wasn’t staring at Sansa. He could hear Sansa swooping over to Bran, asking a dozen questions to ascertain if he was alright and discover why he was here. 

“Oh, that’s Myrcella Baratheon.” That was strange. Why was she here? _By the pricking of my thumbs…_

“Golden Hand.”

“What?”

“The handbags. There's those billboards of her modeling with those.”

 _You really are a closet fashionista._ “Uh, yeah. It’s actually her uncle’s line of…” Grenn wasn’t listening. He had the dopiest look on his face, too. A light bulb blazed to life at last. “Would you like to meet her?” 

“Meet her?! Me?!”

“Yeah, you. Come on.”

He’d managed to introduce his lovestruck roommate to Myrcella when that pricking sensation was back… _and something wicked this way comes._

“Just what is the meaning of this, Olenna?” Cersei snarled as she swept into the studio with her assistance Lancel at her heels, that lecherous old goat Pycelle and Baelish following them. 

_Everyone’s got an entourage today._

“Oh, Cersei…so glad you could join us at last,” Olenna said, completely unfazed.

* * *

_“I demand that this shoot cease at once! This model is under contract with me and exclusive to…”_

_“Me,”_ Varys had interjected. _“She’s exclusive to my line as of today. She’s marvelous and I’m so pleased.”_

_“She can’t be exclusive to you when she’s already exclusive to another line.”_

_“She can when she never signed a contract for that line. And what’s he doing here anyway?”_ Olenna had grumbled, pointing at Mr. Baelish. She’d paced closer to Cersei, a smug smile blossoming on the old gal’s face. _“Last I checked, the model must sign the contract to be exclusive. The agent’s signature is rather here or there.”_

_“A formality which will soon be amended if Sansa knows what’s best for her.”_

_“What’s best for her? Oh, we’re all very invested in what’s best for Sansa, aren’t we? As her agent, I’m sure you want to see her succeed. That’s what a good agent does after all. Tanda, come over here, my dear. You know Cersei, of course. Let me introduce you to Sansa, our Weirwood girl and Cersei’s rising star. While you’re at it, you may as well meet this young man, her younger brother, I believe. Bran, isn’t it?”_

_“Yeah, that’s me.”_

_“You wouldn’t believe what a rough go these two kids have had, Tanda, but Cersei is such a benevolent agent. She’s always looking out for her models…like a mother almost. Aren’t you proud of your mother, Myrcella? She certainly wants what’s best for all her models, doesn’t she?”_

_“I know deep down Mother means well,”_ the young lady had said softly. _“Don’t you, Mother?”_

That had been the clincher. 

Sansa could still start laughing honestly to think of it. Myrcella’s wide, trusting eyes and the Stokeworth lady with her notepad and pen at the ready. Cersei’s smile had been more of a grimace, like someone had just told her she’d have to swallow a jar full of nails. 

_“Of course, I want what’s best for my little dove.”_

_“I knew you would,”_ Olenna had clapped. _“Actually, I’ve had my lawyers looking at the terms of her original contact though. Rather curious some of those clauses. I didn’t think a model’s personal relationships figured into contracts although she had been a dear to escort your Joffrey around. And then, there’s the somewhat large percentage of her pay you’ve been getting for every job. It can be hard for a girl to make ends meet when she’s got someone else to help support. I’ll bet she’s a very devoted sister but so new to our business. She must’ve been in quite a pinch when she signed with you but…”_

_“I’m sure we can take a look at her contract and address any concerns. This doesn’t need to be discussed here after all.”_

_“Oh, no. We’ve got a shoot to get on with. Jon’s eager to get our lovely girl back in front of his camera and we’ll be sure to have my grandson Willas present for any future contract discussions. He’s an attorney, you know.”_

_“Yes, I know,”_ Cersei had said, sourly. 

_“And Tanda? After we’re done, maybe you’d like to interview Sansa and her brother, write up a little piece about these two. It’d be bound to melt your readers’ hearts, don’t you think?”_

_“Oh, yes! Certainly, Olenna!”_

Mr. Baelish had been escorted to the door by a smirking Varys soon after saying he couldn’t have someone who worked for one of his competitors present since some of the outfits were yet to be revealed. 

Cersei had stood around impotently, doing her best to pretend she was thrilled to be there as her young model took centerstage again…and as her daughter had started flirting with a burly but sweet man named Grenn. 

“I still can’t believe this day,” Sansa said as Jon escorted her up to his apartment, their arms laden with groceries for the meal he was going to prepare. 

“And we thought Wednesday was wild.”

“Yes but today there were no tears and no awful threats from Cersei…none she can act on anyway.”

“Exactly,” Jon said with a nod as he opened the door.

Ghost trotted out to meet them, receiving his nuzzles before trotting back to his bed. It was a good distraction to keep her from gasping when she got a good look at Jon’s place. Though she might’ve guessed from the doorman down below and well-appointed interior, she hadn’t expected the apartment to be so large, nicely decorated and to have such a gorgeous view of the city. It was very tidy, too.

“Thank God. Cleaning service came today,” he said, giving her a sheepish grin. “It can get a little scary the day before.”

She laughed and set down the bag she was carrying on the counter, walking towards the large balcony. She could hear him putting things away before he stepped out to join her. “This is beautiful.” 

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his nose in her hair and tickling her neck with his hot breath. “You’re beautiful.” 

“I…I’m embarrassed to think of my place when you…”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t be embarrassed of your place. It’s your home. And I’ll tell you a secret. Grenn’s a very successful contractor. I could never afford this place if we weren’t splitting the rent. Actually, we had a third roommate but Tormund moved back North six months ago.”

“There’s three bedrooms?”

“Uh huh.” 

Grenn had invited Bran to join him at their friend Pyp’s place. Their friends Edd and Sam would be there, too. Bran couldn’t care less about boxing but he liked Grenn and there would be hot wings which he liked very much. Plus, their friend Sam was the one who worked for the city and could see their plans for improvements to the dog park become a reality. 

Then, Grenn’s jaw had dropped when Bran had asked Myrcella if she might like to come along. He’d looked ready to faint when she’d agreed. And Cersei had looked ready to have an aneurysm at the thoughts of her daughter having wings and watching a boxing match with a group of ‘working class’ guys. 

She turned to face him, relishing the feel of him holding her. “So dinner in a beautiful and very clean apartment, just the two of us. Is this part of the wooing you mentioned?” 

“Definitely. How am I doing so far?”

“Not bad but…” She adjusted his collar, looking up at him from beneath her lashes and giving him what she hoped was a tempting smile. “I believe you mentioned showing off some skills.” 

His eyes grew so dark there was hardly in grey left to them. “What skills am I showing off first?”

She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “I think I’m not terribly hungry for dinner just yet.” 

In a flash, his mouth was covering hers. Her hands gripped his shirt as his twisted into her hair. When they had to draw breath again, she nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.

“Are you sure? Can I kiss you down there, Sansa?” She hesitated for only a second but he noticed. “Sansa, if you don’t want to…”

“I do but…no one’s ever got me off like that.”

His sweet concern from a second ago became the most wicked grin. “Well, someone’s about to.” He kissed her passionately once more as she clung to him. When he pulled back this time, she actually did whimper in protest. “This isn’t happening on my balcony,” he rumbled before lifting her into his arms. 

Her heart soared and her pulse pounded at the heady mix of romance and desire his words and actions aroused. “You need to show me the rest of your beautiful apartment anyway,” she said in the most light-hearted manner she could muster. 

“Yeah, I do. I vote we visit the bedroom first.”

No sooner than they were in his room, Jon set her on her feet again, pulling her hungrily to him for more kisses. His mouth was made for kissing, she thought as his tongue was slipping past her lips.

His hands roamed up and down her body, gliding over the blouse and pants she’d pulled on this morning before the limo had picked her up. “I’m supposed to model something for you, I believe.”

“Later, love. This time, I just want to see you.” His hands moved steadily, deftly as he undid her blouse and pushed it over her shoulders, revealing her lacy white bra. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He maneuvered her towards the bed, sliding the straps of her bra off her shoulders and kissing her lightly, his beard tickling her flesh.

“Oh!” she yelped delightedly when he unfastened her bra and stroked a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Giving her a nudge, he laid her back on the bed, covering her body with his as they returned to kissing. He continued his teasing of her nipples, stirring that ache low her in belly and making her squirm beneath him.

“You like that?” he whispered against her ear.

She could do no more than nod and felt his smirk against her cheek. 

But soon, kissing and nipple play wasn’t quite enough. She helped him shed his shirt, relishing the smoothness of his skin and the rock hard muscle underneath. 

“I want…”

“What do you want, love?”

“Please, Jon. I want you to show me…”

“Say it, beautiful,” he taunted, squeezing her nipple just enough to make her gasp and sucking lightly on her pulse point.

“Show me what you can do with your tongue,” she pleaded, never minding how hot her face was growing. “Show me how good it can be.” 

“It would be my honor.” They both snickered at his serious tone afterwards but she was touched by his words, too. 

Her body arched when his mouth left her neck and trailed downward. His finger and thumb continued stimulating one nipple but suddenly the other was covered by the wet heat of his mouth. She keened, bucking up against him and feeling her legs fall open in invitation. 

Jon hummed when she threaded her fingers through his curls and gripped him tightly. If this felt amazing, how would she handle him between her legs? 

His hand left her other breast and slipped into her pants. She spread her legs further for him and nearly curled into a ball when his fingers brushed her curls.

“Let’s get these out of the way, love.” 

Before she could do more than nod, he was helping her out of her pants, leaving her in nothing but her panties. Normally, she would feel unsure and exposed being nearly naked with someone else for the first time. She didn’t feel that way at all with Jon. All during the shoot, even with the room full of other people including Bran, she’d felt Jon’s eyes on her and saw nothing but reverence when he looked at her. It was like he knew every inch of her already and only wanted more. 

She took a deep breath as Jon began to pull her underwear down. She felt him move off the bed, opening her eyes in time to watch him go to his knees at the end of the bed. Her panties slipped past her ankles and he gently hooked his arms under her legs and pulled her across the sheets, closer to his mouth. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured like he was talking to himself. 

He guided her legs over his bare shoulders and started kissing the inside of her thigh. That tightening coil of tension kept building. She propped herself up on her elbows, curious to watch. But the next minute, her elbows gave out and she collapsed with one swipe of his tongue through her folds. Her toes were already curling when he licked her clit next, testing. He buried his nose in her curls and his mouth and lips were back to teasing and tasting her folds. 

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer and she felt a rumbling groan escape his lips, filling her core and making her buck her hips.

“Oh, fuck,” she sighed, one hand languidly playing with the breasts he’d abandoned.

His eyes were black as sin when he saw her doing so. “That’s right, love. Play with those pretty tits for me while I’m busy down here.”

He immediately returned to circling her clit with his tongue. Her free hand was clenching at the sheets of his bed as that coiling tension mounted. 

His beard was chaffing her sensitive inner thighs. His whole face was part of this act. 

“Do you like this, love?”

She moaned wantonly in response. 

“Oh, good. I love it, too,” he chuckled. 

He sucked lightly on her clit and one hand joined the action, spreading her lower lips for him and entering her cunt. She could’ve sobbed in anticipation of the pleasure he promised with his mouth and fingers. 

“Oh, Jon! Oh, God!” she cried a few minutes later as the combination of lips, tongue and fingers pushed her to that peak at last. 

Dreamy-eyed and sated, she stared at his ceiling as the last waves crashed around her. She could feel him gently kissing her inner thigh again and then her belly. He laid on top of her, still in his trousers though shirtless and ran his fingers through her hair. He was smiling. She gave him a hazy, sex drunk smile in return.

“Good?”

“So good,” she nodded.

He kissed her, her musk coating his lips and tongue. She didn’t care. 

However, she did care very much when they heard Ghost barking and the apartment door opening. 

She gasped and reached for his pillow to cover herself. They hadn’t closed his bedroom door. 

Jon stood, his face resembling a thundercloud. “That had better be a burglar. At least that way, I may be able to claim justifiable homicide.”

It wasn’t a burglar. 

Just before Jon slammed his bedroom door shut, she heard Grenn calling out. “Hello, Jon? You and Sansa here? Sorry but Pyp’s power went out and we thought we’d all come watch the fight over here!” 

Sansa covered her face with her hands. Bran would be with him. She could yank her clothes back on and act innocent. God, she hoped she could pull that off.

All the same, she couldn’t help giggling when she heard Grenn asking if he should call for wings or if Jon wouldn’t mind making dinner. Jon was too busy cursing under his breath to join her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, the next chapter really will be the last. It will be an epilogue with Bran, Sansa and Jon POVs. Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little epilogue to wrap this one up :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think writing Bran with Sansa and Jon in this might've been one of my favorite parts of it although it made my simple model/photographer fic longer than originally planned.

**Six months later**

Jon had not committed homicide, justifiable or otherwise, that first night Bran had visited Grenn and Jon’s apartment. The couple had emerged from Jon’s bedroom about five minutes after the door had slammed shut looking perfectly put together…and guilty as sin.

By unspoken agreement, the siblings had managed to avoid too much eye contact the first hour. Bran had meant what he’d said to Jon though. So long as he was treating his sister right, Bran didn’t need or want any details regarding his sister’s love life.

While Jon was bickering with Grenn over sauces for wings and everyone else was getting settled, Edd and Pyp looking completely flummoxed over two models being in their midst, Sansa had taken the opportunity to talk to him.

_“Thank you for coming today but I’m sorry for the way that was sprung on us with the interview. I didn't expect that. Are you upset about them making us sound like a charity case or something?”_

_Maybe a little._

All the same, he’d smiled at his sister and shook his head. He knew why Olenna Tyrell had wanted him there and how appearances mattered, especially in that business. And seeing the way Cersei had found herself trapped into behaving more rationally with regards to Sansa had been worth any annoyance over being painted as the ‘poor crippled little brother.’ His ego could stand it. He knew his own worth and the people who mattered to him did, too. What mattered most was his sister wasn’t going to be held hostage by her vicious agent and they were together and doing okay.

That had been months ago before Sansa had signed a new contract with another modeling agency. The cover story was she’d parted ways ‘amicably’ from Cersei but there’d been a little legal wrangling and Cersei had found her hottest commodity escaping her clutches for good. Then, Sansa’s former agent, along with her son and a few others she had business dealings with, including Mr. Baelish, had found themselves in hot water for tax evasion after an anonymous tip. Bran had his suspicions regarding the tipster. That Varys seemed pretty sly but then Mrs. Tyrell had been pleased as punch for weeks after the news hit.

Cersei’s agency had been shuttered a few weeks after the charges had been made. As Myrcella was quickly snapped up by another agency, Bran couldn’t say he felt a bit sorry for Cersei and her business.

During the boxing match that first night though (and right after Grenn had spilled his beer because Myrcella had lightly put her hand on his knee to ask him a question), they’d been wrapped up in that initial sense of relief over Sansa’s shoot and the events surrounding it. It had been a fun night with new friends…ones who would end up being as dear to Bran and Sansa as any they could name.

As predicted, Sansa had become an overnight sensation in the modeling world after the release of _Highgarden_ ’s Weirwood issue and her signing a one year contract to be exclusive to Varys. Of course, once that year was up, she would have plenty of other labels after her…if she decided to keep modeling.

She was making really good money now and they weren’t struggling anymore, especially since they’d given up their crappy apartment and moved in with Jon and Grenn. A third of the rent and utilities at their much nicer place was still less than they’d been paying on their own. Bran and Grenn got along well which was nice since they both wanted to give the couple their space, especially at night.

But Sansa still had dreams of going back to college in another year or so, dreams that Jon and Bran both were pushing her to pursue. And it wasn’t as if she couldn’t still model part time if she chose to. There was plenty of time to decide those things. For now, they were all content with their tastes here and there of the limelight and the beautiful people.

Today, Bran would be experiencing another variety of limelight though.

Just as he was getting the dogs ready, his phone dinged with a text. _There’s already some reporters and people from the mayor’s office here. Where are you guys?!_

_Jon’s on his way and we’ll be leaving as soon as he gets here._

_You’ll be late!_

_Would you like to try wrangling three dogs while in a wheelchair for me? I’ll gladly swap places with you._

_Sorry. Just get here. I’m afraid they’ll make me talk if someone else doesn’t show up soon._

He rolled his eyes at his roommate’s deathly fear of public speaking. _Don’t you have a pretty girlfriend who might distract them?_

_I don’t want these guys drooling over my woman. She already has to put up with me._

Bran chuckled at that knowing how protective of Myrcella Grenn was and promised he’d be there soon.

The apartment door opened just as he was getting Ghost’s lead attached.

“Sorry, I’m late getting home. The shoot ran over but I wanted to help you get them all set.”

“It’s alright, Jon. We’re good to go,” Bran told him, feigning total composure and pleased by the way the dogs were sitting at attention like the perfect angel babies that they were. He’d even managed to put the ribbon on Lady’s collar as requested by Sansa. It was kind of silly but it’s not like he wouldn’t do anything for her.

“Great. Have you spoken to Sansa today?”

“Yeah, she called this morning to check in and say yet again how sad she is to miss this.” Jon started getting that worried look just like Sansa had when she’d Facetimed earlier. They were honestly a couple of mother hens sometimes. No, he didn't mind really...although he'd never admit it. “I promise it’s fine with me and we’ll take pictures for her. You’ll be there with me and this was kind of about us anyway, right?”

“Right, it was,” Jon smiled.

“I told her to keep knocking them dead at Fashion Week and not to worry.”

“Okay.” Jon held the door for Bran to wheel past him with the three dogs following. “Will you make fun of me if I tell you how much I miss your sister?”

“Only if you make fun of me for admitting I miss her, too. But, she’ll be home tomorrow.”

"Thank God."

Meanwhile, their little bachelor pad could use some attention before her return or they’d all be subjected to a scolding. They did try to keep things up to her standards. Jon kept them fed and they’d all do the dishes. Grenn never complained about vacuuming up the endless dog hair and could fix anything that tore up. Bran didn’t mind doing laundry except for that one piece of lingerie Sansa always insisted on handwashing herself (which he really DID NOT want details about.)

But sometimes when they were all busy with work and school…well, three guys and three dogs. It wasn’t pretty at the moment.

“You called the cleaning service, right?” he asked Jon as they waited for the elevator.

“I sure did.”

Today, there was to be a little ribbon cutting at the dog park where they’d met to celebrate the improvements made to assist any human companions with disabilities. Bran was looking forward to seeing it finished since Friendship Dog Park would always be a very special place to him. Maybe he'd get to tell the tale someday of how he met his future brother-in-law there. It’d be a nice way to start off a toast.

* * *

“God, I missed you so much.”

She was clinging to his neck like they’d spent a year apart instead of a week. She’d spotted Bran first at the airport and gave him a hug but, when she’d seen Jon, she’d jumped into his waiting arms and not wanted to be put back down. She was making a spectacle of herself more than likely. She didn’t care. Jon didn’t either.

“I missed you, too.” He squeezed her harder for emphasis before lowering her to her feet again. He was brushing her hair back out of her face and his eyes were so soft. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The zippy thrill of that admittance would still affect her months after the first time they’d said it to each other, that night a couple of weeks after the Weirwood shoot when she’d modeled her Mulberry silk and Chantilly lace chemise for Jon and let him take it off her after a very private photo session when Bran and Grenn had gone to the movies with Pyp, Edd and Jojen.

She swayed against him, thinking of that night and their nights after and the various ways she'd missed him this past week. Their eyes met and there were those sparks igniting all over again. 

Unfortunately, they were not alone yet.

“Alright, alright. You know we’ll be home soon and you two can continue this behind closed doors, right?”

“We’re not doing anything unseemly,” Jon said with a scowl at Bran.

“You’re thinking about it.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Tell me everything about the official reopening of the dog park,” Sansa interjected.

“No big deal. We told you all about it last night on the phone,” Bran demurred.

"It is too a big deal!" she argued, kissing his cheek.

Bran was pretty adorable as he blushed. He hadn’t made a big deal of it but some of Sam's friends with the City had already asked Bran to be a consultant of sorts for them regrading other improvements needed at their public parks and places. He was very pleased over it in his quiet way. She knew their parents would be so proud of him, too.

“It went great. I said a little bit about the park and what it means to me to be able to enjoy it with the dogs. Jon smiled a lot. Grenn managed to not throw up from nerves. Mostly, the dogs enjoyed getting lots of attention which made us all happy. Tell us about Fashion Week.”

“Oh, it was alright but not as much fun without my favorite photographer there.”

“What was it like shooting without me?”

“Not the same. Not the same _at all_ ," she answered, giving him a certain look.

His eyes flashed and Bran started muttering to himself before rolling ahead of them.

She’d missed him on a personal level of course but she’d missed him professionally, too. She’d grown so comfortable with Jon behind the lens. But Jon didn’t work for Varys and _Highgarden_ had been busy shooting for the next issue so Fashion Week had been just her.

She lowered her voice to make sure Bran wouldn’t overhear her. “I missed your husky voice getting me all hot while you tell me what to do, too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I’ll have to ask you to do a little modeling for me later, love.”

“Maybe so.” Their little private sessions were one of their favorite things though decidedly x-rated. She might not always want to model for a living but she’d always want to model for Jon.

“I liked the outfit they put you in for that runway show at the Water Gardens. Those heels…”

“God, six-inch stilettos. Who in their right mind would…”

“Think Varys would let you have them?”

“Why?” She didn’t have to ask why. She was already squirming in anticipation of his answer.

“Because I need to take some pictures of you wearing them…right before I fuck you in them.”

A sound rather like a squawk escaped her mouth just as Bran asked over his shoulder, “What’s for dinner?”

“You,” Jon mouthed just for her, drawing forth a blush, before answering Bran. “How about pizza?”

“Hot Pie’s it is then. My stomach’s growling already.”

“When is your stomach not growling?” she laughed. Bran stuck his tongue out at her. “But get thin crust for me,” she said was Jon was texting Grenn their dinner plans.

“With veggies. Got it. Bran, Grenn and I will have our usual coronary special to make up for it.”

She playfully smacked his arm as they made it to the car.

“So, are you ready for tomorrow night?” Jon asked as they pulled away from the airport.

“Yeah, I guess. I’d rather stay home for the next week but duty calls and this is a big deal for the label. I’ve been shown the dress I’m wearing and it’s gorgeous. I can’t wait for you to see it. What are you wearing?”

“To the gala?” She nodded and he shrugged with a coy grin. “I’m not invited.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Varys didn’t invite me.”

“Well, he invited me so you’re going, Jon Targaryen.”

“Do I have to? Those things are so dull,” he said in the plaintive tone that didn’t fool her one bit.

Ignoring his put-upon expression, she laid her hand upon his knee as they neared the city. “I promise you’ll have a good time with me.”

“How good?” he rasped quietly.

“You guys…have pity on me,” Bran whined, making them both laugh and straighten up again.

All the same, Sansa couldn’t wait to reach the apartment and get behind their bedroom door. She'd been missing the feel of Mulberry silk...and Jon's mouth. Maybe Bran and Grenn would be dears and pick up the pizzas without them.

* * *

All night, he’d not been able to focus on anything but Sansa. Yeah, he was surrounded by industry bigwigs and beautiful people at Varys' yearly gala event but, from the moment Sansa had walked out of their bathroom earlier, he’d been mesmerized. In her beautiful navy blue confection of a dress with a slit that ran nearly to her hip, she was a vision. Her eyes had lit up like a child’s when the courtesy limo that Olenna had loaned them whisked them across town to their destination. Her red hair had been glowing under the flashing lights of cameras from the moment he’d helped her out of the back with the driver standing by the door.

This sort of thing wasn’t really his scene but with Sansa by his side, it was alright. In fact, with Sansa by his side, he didn’t mind it at all.

He also couldn’t wait to leave again. A big part of that had everything to do with their hurried exchange of words as they were making their way up the red carpet into the hall where this party and the new collection reveal was being held.

 _"You sure clean up nicely, Targaryen.”_ Her eyes had been running up and down his body. _"You look incredible in that tux…but I think I might prefer to see it on the floor of our bedroom."_

 _“Mmm, you think so?”_ He’d kissed her cheek before leaning closer to her ear. _“Well, as beautiful as you are in that dress, I’d rather have you back in that limo with it rucked up around your waist right now, love."_

Her eyes had darkened and he’d liked the mischievous look in her eyes when she’d said, _“I may hold you to that later.”_

_“It’s a promise then.”_

The evening passed in a bit of a haze for Jon after that, shaking hands and making nice with all the people they had to. Runway talk, snide remarks, paparazzi, clothes, clothes, clothes and gossip swirled all around him. Things that Jon couldn't say he enjoyed all that much. But he could handle this with Sansa here. 

Olenna was hard to miss in her green organza gown and her witty quips were always enjoyable. She also admonished Jon not to tear Sansa’s beautiful dress.

“It’s the first dress that Loras has designed since he joined House Varys and we're thrilled they chose it for Sansa to wear. So, you'd better watch yourself.”

“Tear Sansa’s beautiful gown? I wouldn’t dream of it,” he protested.

“Don’t bullshit me, Jon. I see that wolf in you and know for a fact you would. Thankfully, Sansa’s a very sensible girl when it comes to things like this.”

“Oh, yes, Olenna. I wouldn’t want to spoil Loras’ dress,” Sansa chirped whilst shooting him a look that could only be described as a challenge. Beautiful though it was, he'd tear that dress to shreds to get to Sansa out of it if necessary. 

There was also one awkward run-in during the evening but he supposed it was bound to happen eventually.

“Jon! It’s so good to see you!” Caught unawares, his face was surrounded by black wavy hair before he even realized who was gushing and embracing him. “Always so handsome in black,” she murmured with a coquettish waggle of her eyebrows.

Extracting himself from her grip, just this side of brusque, he took Sansa’s hand. “Arianne, it’s nice to see you again. Let me introduce you to my girlfriend, Sansa Stark.”

“Oh…it’s nice to meet you, Sansa,” Arianne replied, politely. “I saw your cover for _Highgarden_. Beautiful work. You’re certainly a lucky girl landing an exclusive with Varys like that.”

“Thank you. I am a very lucky girl indeed but the job’s only part of that. Jon's what makes it all worthwhile for me,” Sansa beamed before turning her radiant smile on him. He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a devoted kiss to her palm. Apparently, Arianne decided she had other people to greet then. He didn’t really notice her walking away to be honest.

But now it was time to leave at last and time for something else maybe, too.

“I should probably say goodbye to…”

“No, no, no. We’ve said enough hellos and goodbyes. I’m getting you in that limo and following through with my earlier pledge.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she laughed.

She wasn’t calling him ridiculous once the door was closed and the partition was raised between them and driver though.

She gasped as he pulled her to him. “How many times can I make you cum before we get home, do you think?”

“It’s not that far of a drive,” she said breathlessly.

“Well then…you’ve got to let me try at least once.”

“But Bronn…”

“Who?”

“The driver.”

“That’s why we want to bless whoever invented the partition, love. We’ll just have to find a way to keep your pretty mouth occupied if you start getting too loud.”

Sansa whined with his words. Or maybe she whined because he’d put her hand on him, letting her feel his already thickening erection. “Please, Jon…" she cried, wiggling in her seat in response.

“Please what, beautiful?”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Happily, love. Let your hair down for me,” he commanded, their eyes locked on each other.

He buried his face in her hair once it was free of its elegant braided bun. Keeping his hands tight on her waist, he started kissing her collarbone, his beard scraping her soft flesh in the way he knew she didn’t mind. He nudged the strap of her evening gown out of his way to bare her shoulder, wanting to take his time tasting every inch of creamy flesh.

“We don’t have that much time,” she teased.

“Shall I lower the partition and tell him to drive around awhile?”

“No!” she gasped, mortified at the thought of the driver knowing what they were about.

“Well, that’s too bad since I already gave him a hefty tip to do just that.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief until he started grinning. “You’re a terrible liar!”

“I am.”

She grinned back at him because they had a bed waiting at home. This was just a little fun to blow off some steam after the gala, an appetizer to be savored but also to whet their appetites for later when he could really take his time with her, worshipping the woman he loved with every bit of his body and soul.

The tension between them was building as the car started rolling. When it broke, their mouths crashed together, teeth and tongues, while he was rucking up her dress as promised and squeezing her ass. He grimaced when he heard the slight tear of fabric.

“I’ll make you pay for that later,” she promised.

“I’ll pay however you say.”

She moaned when he cupped her mound with his hand and then helped her slip those panties off. Once those were gone, she started feverishly working at his belt buckle and trousers. When his cock had sprung free of his boxers, Sansa eyed it with an impish grin and slid down into the floor of the limo.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting ready to suck your cock.”

“I thought we, uh… _fuck_...” His words were cut off by the feel of her hot wet mouth on him. “I thought time was…”

She licked him from balls to tip before taking him fully into her mouth and sucking with intent. He groaned and let his head fall back against the embroidered headrest. Thank God for limos with partitions.

But when he opened his eyes, watching her red hair covering his lap as she bobbed up and down, he could feel the release knotting up in his belly. This wasn’t what he wanted right now.

“Enough of that. I want inside you, love.”

Pulling her into his lap, he slid his hands up along her thighs as she straddled him. She gave him a wet kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. He raised her up enough to slip his cock inside her, eyes nearly crossing at the sensation of her tight heat enveloping him.

The limo was roomier than most cars but it was still a car. Her head thwacked against the ceiling at one point. He quickly massaged any potential lump but she guided his mouth back to her breasts that had been freed of her bustier. When they took a curve a bit fast, he had to dig his heels down into the floorboard to keep them from losing their seats.

In short, he felt like a bit of a fumbling mess.

Despite his past experiences, he’d never fucked a girl in the back of a limo before, let alone the girl he was planning to propose to very soon. He didn’t have all the details figured out yet but he was thinking of the pier where they'd first kissed on their first (or third) date. He wanted it to be special for her. He’d asked Gilly’s opinion on the ring anyway and she’d given it a resounding thumbs up.

But the point was, even though he was a bit of a fumbling mess making love to Sansa in the back of that limo, he knew she didn’t mind, that she loved him as he was just as he loved her.

“ _Shhh_ ,” he warned her, putting his fingers in her mouth to stifle the moans that were growing towards a crescendo.

She bit down on his fingers with a wink and he playfully smacked her ass. That only revved her up that much more.

“Yes, Jon, yes! Harder,” she whimpered as she rode him, a grinding rhythm they’d finally perfected here on the supple leather.

He cradled her face in his hands. “Do you know there’s nothing so beautiful as you like this?” Sansa smiled softly and hitched her hips forward at his words…before promptly slamming back down, causing him to fill her to the hilt. “Oh, Christ!”

“ _Shhh_ ,” she mockingly warned him before bursting into giggles.

But those giggles dissolve into more moans and his own eager grunts and he thrusted harder and faster, pounding his hips forward while holding her to him. She’d be unsteady on her legs when the car stopped. Maybe he would be, too. He didn’t care.

“Cum for me now, love.” He slipped a hand between them to rub her clit and lightly sank his teeth into her pretty white shoulder.

She did, not holding anything back as she cried his name and shuddered around him.

“You, too,” she begged as she was still quivering on top of him.

In a move that was messy but not remotely fumbling, he shifted them until Sansa was on her back, spread across those soft seats under him with one lovely ankle and strappy high heel at his ear. His hips snapped in quick succession, bringing him to the release he’d been holding onto so she could find her pleasure first. He groaned rather loudly when he reached it.

He was still breathless on top of her when the car pulled to a stop sooner than he’d hoped. “Shit.” They scurried to right themselves, Sansa diving into her handbag for a tissue as he shouted, “Uh, just a sec!” towards the partition. “I really should’ve tipped him and told him to drive us all over the city.”

“Too late now,” she laughed as she shimmied back into her panties.

She’d be dripping into those panties as they made their way upstairs and that knowledge alone had him capable of meeting the driver’s smirk with a cheeky grin of his own. He also gave him a good tip.

“So, did you have a good time tonight?” she asked, her voice a teasing lilt as the elevator started to rise towards home.

He pulled her into his arms, preparing to kiss her yet again right after he murmured, “Always with you, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second time I've had Bronn as a limo driver when Jon and Sansa have had sex in the back of it. I have no idea why that seems to be an emerging pattern. LOL!
> 
> As always, you're welcome to leave suggestions for future Career Day stories in the comments or send them as asks on Tumblr. No promises but more than one of these have come from other people's suggestions so you never can tell ;)
> 
> For now, I'm planning to update Leather & Lace and After All This Time next (not sure which one first) and then I'll try and update Be My +1 again after that. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!!


End file.
